As Angels Must

     I've done it a thousand times...with each child. Jeremy (in the photo) is my fifth (and last ) child, and tonight I watch him sleep just as I did with my Jonathan, my Rebecca, my Emily, and my Christian.
I brailled the contours of their faces with my eyes, stopping for a moment to ever so lightly trace a little finger or the edge of an ear.
     As I watch, my mind overflows with thoughts of what their dreams are like, how much I want to protect them, who they will become...and of course, what they think of me and what moments they choose to remember and cherish long after I am gone from this world.
     I can only hope that my super silliness and singing and holding hands and twirling to the Bee Gees, favorite books read before bed from dog-earred pages, soft words of comfort in the stillness of nighttime and heart shaped birthday cakes and rolling down grassy hills...all of those things...I want them to remember always.
Never the impatient sighs, the old cliches, the exasperated tone or the words poorly chosen. Though I know they will.
I can only hope they choose the light and laughter and lots of the silly.
     I swear there is no sweeter sound in the world than a child's laughter...except perhaps the sound of their breath as they sleep. So beautifully as angels must; carried in sleep by the hands of God and the tangible tide of a mother's love.