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I am lost in sleep. Somewhere between a dream that seems real and one that seems impossible. I feel it in my dream–the gentle, tap, tap, tap of fingers on my back. I ignore it at first–it’s only a dream. I try to stay there, in the dream. Stay with the sleep.
Then I feel it again.
Tap, tap, tap.
I force my eyes open, knowing what I will see. Who I will see.
Meadow. Tiny blanket tucked under one arm and a tiny bunny under the other. I look toward the nightstand where my watch rests. Bright neon green numbers tell me it’s 2:34.
What’s wrong? I ask her.
Her hair hangs over her eyes like it always does. Her lips form a familiar natural pout. I had a scary dream, she says. Will you lay with me for a little bit?
I roll out of bed and take her tiny hand in mine. She cradles her blanket (Little Blanket) and bunny (Little Bunny) in her arm as we climb the stairs together. I squeeze her hand in mine and feel the way her fingers curl around mine. It is a rare middle-of-the-night wake up when I am present. When I am not feeling the exhaustion. When I am not feeling frustration and thinking about the 5 a.m. wake up that is just around the corner. It is a rare middle-of-the-night moment when my mind flashes to the reality that these days will end sooner than I’m ready. It doesn’t happen often, but in the middle of the night–on this night, I know it–this moment is a gift.
She climbs into her bed and I settle in next to her. I pull the comforter over us and watch as she tucks Little Bunny into the crook of her elbow and holds Little Blanket in her tiny hand. I lay next to her and place my hand on top of her arm. I lay in the quiet and listen to the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of the fan above us. I look toward her face and see she is spotlighted by the moon. I notice the way the moonlight travels down the side of her face. Gone are the chubby cheeks of a baby. Her eyelashes reach the skin. I lay next to her and listen to the softness of her breathing. I take it in. I breathe in each move of her chest and the way her hands wrap around the tiny blanket. I stay beside her for several minutes before leaning over and kissing her soft forehead.
I love you, I whisper.
I love you, too, she whispers back.
*******
There is much to learn in the darkness. There is much to learn when only the moonlight illuminates. The noise disappears. Outside voices are dulled. The eyes can only see what they need to see. The darkness brings the most important things right into view and everything else fades.
As I walk down the stairs, gratitude seeps in. Gratitude for quiet moments in the middle of the night. Gratitude for memories to hold onto. Gratitude for the gift of being right here, right now.
Recently, I asked my Dad, What is your best parenting advice?
His answer was simple and to the point, Be there and Be aware.
Ah, yes. It’s never as complicated as we make it, is it?
Be there and be aware.
It’s not just parenting advice, is it?
I am as guilty as anyone of rushing through life. To look toward the next thing. To cross off today so I can get to tomorrow.
And at what cost? These are the questions I’ve been asking myself. What am I missing today as I rush toward tomorrow?
Be there and be aware.
This. Yes. This is worth the practicing. The trying. The failing. And the trying again.
The best wisdom is always simple, isn’t it? Truth is never complicated.
