In the hush

In the predawn hush, I am Mother. Holding you on my chest as we rock, I am warmth and safety, and a place in memory called home.

In the harshness of daylight, I am tough. Showing black and white, silencing with a word, or a glance, or a thump on the reaching hand, I am sentinel. Movement outside restricted circles is prohibited. Arguments unheeded, cut short with choppy exhortations. Minutes are scheduled, resistance futile.

Dusk comes, and I am soft. We melt into the shadows, watching lights dance like hurried zebras on the walls. Here, I will hold your hand, smooth your hair, let you whisper past bedtime. I will read the fifth book, go for the forgotten bunny in the basement, fetch the last-minute sippy cup.

Morning comes. Barked commands are met with swift action. That harried face in the mirror is not me- it’s too brittle, too stony. I am the arbiter, the referee, the judge swift to sentence.

A glance up the stairs reveals a dropped pacifier.

And I am there, for an instant, smelling your shampoo, hushing the cars that invade your sleep.

This entry was posted in children, family, motherhood and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to In the hush

  1. faemom says:

    That was simply beautiful.

  2. incognitomom says:

    beautiful … and so true.

  3. Gibby says:

    Wow. This is brilliant and beautiful, all at the same time.

  4. Eek! I cannot believe that you tried to pierce your own belly button! Clearly, you have more courage that I can imagine.

  5. Beautiful descriptions. It’s so true how we become soft and forgiving once we feel the relief of bedtime. Oh, inhaling the smell of a clean head is divine!

  6. sahm i am says:

    Beautiful, once again. I should visit your blog more often than I do.

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