This morning I heard my husband trying to wake up our daughter, which I knew was my cue to get up and try to do the same. After promising cinnamon rolls were almost ready and imitating one of her favorite Star Wars characters, he went downstairs and I stayed behind.
I traced the jaw line of her beautiful face (which I am always in awe of) and kissed her cheek. Eyes closed she said, “I’m still tired.” I said, “I know”, then whispered, “I love you.” She whispered back in her sweet little voice, “I love you, too, mama.”
I sat there trying to wrap my mind around the sound and the words. I tried to shove them into a place in my mind where I won’t forget their tone, her sweetness, or their meaning. I cried quietly there on the edge of her bed, not making a sound, wiping the tears away a handful at a time.
I don’t want to forget this. Please don’t let me forget.