I returned home early this evening after a lovely and unexpected belated birthday massage (courtesy of my sister — the funding, that is, not the massage). Niksdad graciously took his tour of duty this afternoon so I could get out for a much needed sanity break. That, and caffeine to counteract the effects of near-hourly awakenings through the night last night.
The massage was heavenly; it wasn’t nearly long enough but I guess it takes more than thirty minutes to undo the pretzels of tension which permanently line my back and shoulders. The product of too many months crouched over a tiny crib in the hospital followed by too many months spent lugging an oxygen tank while wheeling a small child around our old, hilly neighborhood. This, followed by more months of late nights hunched over a squalling infant, enraged at the injustice of yet another tube stuffed into his little body as I re-threaded his nasal feeding tube for the fourth time in twice as many hours. And countless times since the day he was born; the burdens of love I gladly carry for my child.
So I guess I shouldn’t expect miracles. But sometimes…just once in a while they happen.
Nik was sitting having his dinner (pump running noisily in the background) and playing with a toy. I walked in the room feeling serene.
“Hi lovey, did you miss me?” His eyes dart to my face. Simultaneously, he smiles and throws his toy to the floor. He tips his head forward — an invitation for a kiss.
It’s written all over your face
There’s no mistake, no guess
no beatin‘ around the bush
Baby, it’s understood
…I’ll take that as a Yes!