Is there anything lovelier…
…than resting your head on a pillow and drinking in the sleeping cherubic face with heavy eyes and hot breathe from gently parted cupid’s bow lips, just two inches from your face?
…than tiny hot hands patting your cheek and a little voice sweetly singing “ma-mmie, ma-mmie” in an almost whisper but not quite a whisper?
…than the innocent, playful, uninhibited, tactile space invasion all over and around you, completely unacceptable from anyone else in your life – even your other half – but welcomed and encouraged with open arms from a drooling, runny nosed, chocolate smeared, grassy handed smallie who ruins your white trousers and your freshly ironed work shirt?
…than the surprise of a spontaneous and unexpected cuddle that creeps up on you in a flurry of activity, stops the world from turning for a millisecond, and then is gone as quickly as it arrived but leaves behind a warm fuzziness that lingers?
…than the infectious, musical giggle of a tickled pink toddler, a sound impossible to replicate and impossible to fake?
…than the wondrous look of a small child who truly believes something magical is happening right in front of them, that brings tears to your eyes because you recognise that sense of awe and know its something you haven’t felt yourself in years…?
..than sitting somewhere, anywhere, with them on your knee with their head nestled in your armpit and a wave of wellbeing and contentment envelopes you both in a small moment for however long it lasts?
…than that whoop of excitement when you’re spotted across the room and they drop everything and run into your arms, wrapping themselves around you?
…than once again seeing the world through a child’s eyes, through new eyes, and suddenly observing things that were always there but have a fresh, vibrant attraction that wouldn’t have caught your eye before. Like seashells, and shadows, and the twinkle of the light reflecting off your watch and onto your ceiling, and flushing toilets?
…than standing and watching your tiny little baby thrive before your eyes and thinking “look at this perfection that I have made, this light of my life, this precious, innocent joy-maker”?
I know that I will miss this. In a blink of an eye this will all be memory. And I burn it to mine now, in the hope that I will still be able to feel, touch, smell, see, taste this golden time.