I should be up rotating laundry and putting up the dishes, but instead I’m lying here listening to Hila Fay softly snore. Her hand is draped over my chest and every once in a while her fingers lightly flutter in reaction to the dream world she’s entered. Yes, I really should get up. My floors need swept and bills need to paid, but I’m a bit afraid you see.
I’m afraid that tomorrow she’ll grow up and not want my snuggles anymore; or that she’ll realize my kisses don’t actually have magic in them that heals all her boo-boos away. I’m afraid that she’ll realize that I don’t know everything or that it’s actually not “cool” to kiss your momma good-bye.
I’m afraid that one morning, all to soon, I’ll wake up and my baby girl’s impish, mischievous smile will give way to the slow, steady smile of a young lady. That all of her Barbies and Legos will have disappeared, only to be replaced by novels and make-up.
I’m afraid that our worlds will flip-flop. Instead of her saying, “Mommy, play with me! Mommy, watch dis! Momma-Momma-Momma, I need a hug an’ a kiss.” It’ll be me pleading, “Hila Fay won’t you sit with me? Hila Fay go for a walk with me. Hila Fay, how ’bout spending some time with me?”
Yes, I really should get up….or maybe not.
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