Meditations on Bed Time

September 27, 2012

Some nights, after the kids head upstairs for sleep, I am reminded of all the nights I would have to make the journey up the stairs with them. The bedtime stories told tangled in Katy’s pink and purple Dora sheets, the long conversation with Colin in the dark, him and I sprawled side by side in a room that smelled like turtle and damp socks, those days of nightly visits weren’t that long ago.

I still venture upstairs from time totime. Katy likes to show me her latest innovations in closet organization and makes me admire the night light she got at the Ag Fair in Truro. Colin tries to explain something about either basketball, football or video games, and I try to look interested. I’m aware that soon I won’t be welcomed upstairs anymore. I enjoy that I only climb them when I choose to, and that I’m still invited more often than not. I’m happy Katy still has Dora sheets and Colin’s room still smells like socks.

I know the day is coming soon when I will be told I am not welcome. I will miss our sleepy talks, and the smells of children, and children growing up, (sweat, old gum, and nail polish.)
And on some nights, they kiss me goodnight in my bed and tuck me in under my quilts.
I’m not sure which I prefer, sending those I love off to sleep and dreams, or being sent.
It’s nice that I have a little time left to enjoy both.