Genevieve’s stuffy nose caused her to wake up crying around eight o’clock tonight. I did something I haven’t in months; I cradled her against my body, sang Rock-a-Bye-Baby and swayed. After a few minutes of gasping and nose snuffing, she rested her head against my chest and brought her two favorite sucking fingers to her mouth.
Genny’s warm heavy head pressed against my left breast. Her lashes flickered on my arm. I closed my eyes and gently stepped around her small room. I felt like all was fine in the world. I asked myself to remember that peaceful moment of inhaling Genny’s soft hair. There was nowhere else I was needed at that moment and so the anxiety that usually tugs at my heart dropped away.
I close my eyes now and breathe deeply—my own nose snuffing slightly. The anxiety drops away again. So simple, to just remember to breathe.