I was watching my teen son sleeping, and though he is taller than me, when he is asleep he is still my baby!
Skin at 1 a.m.
I have a teenager, he is 15 nearly. My husband (his dad) died when my son was 3 1/2, and I was there while they turned off the life support. It hit me hard and left me a bit neurotic. Every night, when my son is sleeping, I have to check that he is still alive. It is a deep fear of losing him. I wrote a poem…
Skin at 1 a.m. Won’t be long now. Soon you will be too big to be holding hands with me. I see beyond the tree outside the window. The sky, infinite – must be a new moon as the stars muse at the aloneness. I check you are breathing. Brush fingers onto your cheek. You wince and I know you are sleeping. It is a strange fixation, fearing death in life. I feel your palm is hot and your blood is warm and you breathe. I am in my sanctuary, the rhythms of your chest rising and falling, bringing me peace. ©2022 Sarah Drury, all rights reserved