a tender moment

You know that moment when words fly out of your mouth, and you see them darting away into the atmosphere, irretrievable, and wish a little string trailed after them so you could haul them back like some erstwhile kite to clutch tightly to yourself?

I felt that way two nights ago.

I said, “Do you want to have a sleepover?”

I clutched at a string that wasn’t there, horrified at what I’d done.  I knew the second that question smacked Little Friend’s ear, there was no turning back.  We were going to have a sleepover.  Me, Little Friend, and my bed.

I could blame Big Friend for being away on a week’s business trip.  I could blame the vast expanse of new, luxurious mattress that was just begging to be shared by someone.  But really, the person who is to blame was indeed the one who paid.

Me.

First, I staked claim to 1/5 of the luxurious new California King mattress, leaving the remaining 4/5 to a child who weighs less than one of my thighs.  Then, I shared my thigh with someone else’s leg, which just. needed. to. be. there.  Then I tried to “scoot over” someone, but was told in no uncertain sleepy terms, “NO!!!!  NO SCOOTING OVER!!!”  Then there was the period at 4-bleary-30-am when someone sat bolt upright and announced “I’m hungry.”

Then came the moment when I woke up for the morning.

I heard the bird’s-whistle breathing change beside me into something softer, more sibilant.  Then from behind the drawn drapes of my eyelids, I sensed a dark form rise beside me.

Then came the tenderest moment.

A small hand brushed my shoulder, then my cheek.  A pat.  A caress.  A tangible “I love you” written on my cheek.  Words and handprint that I want tattooed there permanently.  Words that I clutch after, futilely attempting to draw them back by invisible string.

The best way to start a morning.  Ever.

It {almost} makes up for how dog-tired I am today.

This post is shared with The Gypsy Mama’s Five-Minute-Fridays.