I want to clear this clutter from the empty half of my bed – the writing assignments, the secret snacks, the notebooks, the contents of my life on a hard drive and a memory card – and place it elsewhere. I want to straighten the sheets and pillows and lightly cover them in a beautiful, comforting scent. I want to turn off the light and unplug the alarm.
I want to bring my sons into my bed, my sanctuary, and hold them to me, one in each arm. I want to wrap myself in a blanket of gangly arms and legs, knees and elbows. I want my cheeks warmed by the sweet breath of innocence and purity. I want to be soothed by the gentle, rhythmic movement as their breathing slows and they drift off to sleep. I want to follow them soon into slumber, but not before I feel our hearts begin to play off one another until they find the perfect tempo. I want us to fall into that peaceful, weightless state where we can shake the dirt and dust from the dark corners of our minds and our souls. I want us to rest, truly rest, until we have completely recharged the positive energies that fuel us.
I want to wake before they do, if only to gaze in wonder for a moment at these two perfect, precious beings that I made. I want to watch as they both open their eyes, two baby blue and two cobalt blue, to stare into my green ones, and see there the immensity and the vastness of my love for them. I want to see them break into the smiles that have melted my heart since the first time I saw each of them. I want to hear the laughter that makes me swell with pure bliss.
But what I want most is for them to feel the strength and the weight of our three parts as one whole, and know that our bond is unbreakable and eternal.