I was four, nearly five years old, when my mother had my brother. I remember my parents telling me I was going to be a big sister - we were at the playground right behind our duplex at Ft. Rucker, on the merry-go-round. One of my strongest memories of that time is laying on the bed with my mom, in her room. It's one of those evocative memories - I remember the shades on the window and the way the light fell, and how safe and loved I felt, curled up with my mom.
Today, I found myself recreating that memory with Thomas. I was tired, and usually when I'm tired I just stretch out on the couch. This time, my bed was calling me. It was late in the afternoon and we needed to get started on homework, but all I wanted to do was rest. And the next thing I know, my long boy - who just lost his first tooth! - crawls up in the bed and under the covers. He slings his limbs across me. He's a total snugglebug, and we both close our eyes for a few minutes. There is absolutely no sleeping whatsoever, but we are both quiet and I realized - we were having our own sweet moment, just like I had with my mom. Maybe the slant of light was the same, but most of all, it was one of those holy ordinary moments. We are making room for the idea of another person in this little family, even though I am sure when he gets here, it will feel like we were waiting for him all along. Like, oh what we were doing without you? - how it felt when Thomas arrived.
But, for now - it was just me and my first sweet boy.