I could tell it had snowed. There was a stillness settled around our house, so I checked to see and found a two-hour delay for the boys’ school. Rolling back over, I reveled in the quiet. Then I heard his steps–my Bear, coming to me. He leaned his head on my shoulder, “Mommy? I just don’t feel good.” As I turned, I pulled him to me. “My throat hurts.” I immediately felt the fevered head and knew I had a sick boy.
He climbed in between Brian and me and I heard his breathing settle. Moments later, as light was just beginning to peak through our curtains, my Bella arrived. “Mommy? I’m super duper cold.” I pulled her into bed on the other side of me and she curled into me for warmth. Bear turned and wrapped himself around me.
I lay there listening to their breathing, lifting silent prayers over them and I felt it.
The warmth of love just burning itself into my heart even deeper.
This Mommy thing?
I couldn’t ask for more.
A mother’s arms are made of tenderness, and children sleep soundly in them. ~Victor Hugo
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