It’s been 4 days since you’ve been home. The nights have been quieter. I fill the void with various friends, movies, work and television shows. Time apart from you does not get easier. I think I just manage it better as the years go on. 

I’m happy for the relationships you’ve built with all of your family, but I always just want you home. I don’t like having to share you, but I know it’s what’s right. 

On the nights you return, we always get home so late. Some nights you’re fast asleep before we’ve even exited the freeway. I tuck you into your race car bed, kiss you goodnight and shut the door behind me. But, on extra cold nights, I scoop you from your bed and bring you into mine. 

I always lay you on my chest, as if you were a baby. I love you curled under my chin, our breath in synch. I shut my eyes and rub your back. I missed you so much. I wish the weight of your little body wasn’t crushing mine. Otherwise I’d let you sleep here all night. 

Before I gently roll you over to your own pillow, I always say these words to myself:

“But at night time, when that two-year-old was quiet, she opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor, looked up over the side of his bed; and if he was really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang:

I’ll love you forever,

I’ll like you for always,

As long as I’m living

my baby you’ll be.”

Braden, time is such a thief but I will ALWAYS love you. And there is always a spot in my bed for you. I’ll make sure to keep it warm. 

Welcome home 🙂 g

I love you,

Your mama xo