February 17, 2005
The house is silent. Everyone is hard asleep. In these quiet interludes I slip downstairs noiselessly just to make sure everything is ok.
Often I'll stand still in the dark listening to the breathing and let my mind wander for a moment in large lazy circles. Sometimes I slide over to the crib and make sure our son is tucked in properly. He never is these days, having become adept at breaking free from his swaddle so I do my best to get him covered up again. Then I will retreat back to work until the sleep is overwhelming and my head fuzzy. Then again I venture down this time into a sleepy embrace.
I don't know what I will think about in the long lonely years of old age, and I'm sure that there will be countless cups of bitterness to swallow between now and then, but I imagine that sometimes I will come back to those moments when I am standing in dark listening to the soft breath of my wife and child awash in full sweetness of things.