Perfection

My son fell asleep on my lap tonight. He was curled up, head against my chest with his long, skinny legs hanging over the side of the recliner. He's six now, and usually too "cool" to sit on my lap for more than a minute unless he wants something. It's been years since I've held his sleepy body on my lap and was able to drink in his perfection.

I kissed him on the tip of his nose. I looked at his sweet face-the same face I've looked at every day for six years. It hasn't changed a bit. He looks so different. He's not my baby any more, but I know that no matter what, he will always be my baby boy. He sighed and snuggled into me some more. I know he feels safe and the thunderstorm raging outside is far from his mind now. But I can't let him go just yet. He has school in the morning, but I need him on my lap for a few more minutes. I need to remember. I need one last snuggle.

As I hold him close to me and brush his hair back from his sweaty face, I know that these moments are soon going to be gone. He won't want me to kiss him on the nose and brush his hair out of his eyes. It's not far off now when telling me where he's going and who he'll be with will be too much effort. He's not going to come to me when he's hurt to put a band-aid on his cut. I pray he'll come to me when he's scared and confused and life doesn't make any sense.

As the years go by, he will become independent. He will need me less and the time I don't have now will stretch before me. He will have friends and relationships and I won't be there to hold his hand. He will forge a path in this wide world and he will have adventures that neither of us can dream of today. He will fall, and he will get up and continue. I will be watching, but I will not always be able to give him my hand. He will always have my heart.

My son fell asleep on my lap tonight. And I held him there for just a few extra minutes.