I lie awake and wait for him. It's not too late but late enough and this foot is screaming loud and I just want to kiss goodnight and roll over and sleep.
And then he asks me if I saw the email.
The one from Sandra.
No, do I need to read it tonight?
You might want to.
I close my eyes and lose a few moments before what he says registers and I open them to say ok but he's already on that 4 he loves. He reads words that make all of the ache and soreness and unworthiness and pain of the day go away. They remove the fear that I might wake up to the negative and the worry that she might wake up sick and the dread of what tomorrow brings in a home not looking like a home.
The thoughts that I had moments ago of being incapable of functioning in an order of peace. Of forgetting too much and remembering too much. Of wanting to pull out this hair that's been so unruly lately I stare in the mirror and try to figure out what to do with it and it is the only bad thing that son brought.
Words of loving me and owing me and thanking me. Of my spirit and my heart and my knowledge. Of me being her blessing.
Words of love that come from a heart with much more room in it than mine. From a mind that thinks of others quicker than mine does and plans unselfishly and stands in the rain with no umbrella. That cries silly over things most take for granted and loves my kids unconditionally.
From a friend who puts me in my place like a sister and never cuts me off and knows better than to be ashamed around me.
He looks at me and I laugh. What does she want? I joke because it wouldn't take much for tears to come tonight.
Because just when I forgot to say my prayers and let Father God rescue me from my day He rescues me anyway. With the gift of her.
With words beautiful coming from this crazy technology into my bed and wrapping me like a warm blanket.
When my fourth sister tucked me in.