Last night, I lie in bed;
my head at the corner of the foot of the bed, I lie there diagonally.
It started out with myself, my six year old son, and Dillon, our dog, lying sideways; my legs dangling over the edge, my son next to me, closer to the head of the bed, and Dillon in front of the pillows closest to the head of the bed.
Each of us were lying there side by side at midnight, my son and I were talking, and I told him a funny story from my childhood.
His reactions were darling, and he and I laughed uncontrollably quite a bit.
It was a story about 4th grade and a boy, Billy Plator, that passed me a note. He wanted to kiss me on the playground at recess and I was to circle yes or no. I was timid and circled no. Funny, how we remember names…
My son responded, “Awww, that’s so cute…. That’s cute like puppy eyes.”
And we burst into laughter.
After all of the giggling and the silly exchanges had settled down into a hushed quiet, and after he and Dillon shifted so that I ended up where I was in that diagonal position, and his head was at my feet at the top of the bed… myself under a blanket but he and Dillon on top as they were not cold,
He spoke quietly into the darkness:
“You should have let him kiss you, Mom.”
“When I find love, I am not going to let it go.”
It is a wonder I was able to get up this morning as his words melted me into a useless puddle of motherly affection.
“No, son. I hope you don’t.” ♥