The morning was yet pink and cool when a little body showed up in my bed.
His head tucked into my stretched shoulder, his arms wrapped around my torso in a snug fit.
My early-rising son had outdone himself this morning. He was up even before the singing birds congregating in the fir tree just outside the window.
I kissed his furry head and the smooth spot between his earlobe and cheek. The gods blessed this boy with enviable skin, more like satin than human, a new compulsion to my fingertips.
His eyes closed and mouth opened. I watched him return back to the realm of rocket-infused dreams.
Here was the point of no return. A temporary place in the human existence tucked in between mother and father and away from worries. I wanted to tell my son's spirit to remember this moment, a safe spot anxiety-free.
This is where we want to be when our hearts are broken, our dreams are slashed and reality settles in. To return to the luxury life of mornings enfolded in your parents' arms and safety blankets when college exams beat at your will, taxes come due with no way to pay and the roof of your new little house begins to leak.
Those heavy moments are nothing like this.
Isn't heaven a replica of mornings burrowed between two relaxed parents?
And then my spirit says to me the same.
Remember this moment, a safe spot anxiety-free. It is the point you will want to return to when he gets too busy for you. Cursed with the speed of time, his mornings will soon be filled with the beeping of waking alarms and swift breakfasts on his way out into a world you can't share.
This is where you will want to return when he's tiptoeing past a curfew or moving out to save souls or, heaven forbid, falling in love with another woman. There is a finite time, the spirit says, when you occupy so much of his consciousness. This moment is for you.
And I decide: This is heaven.
C. Jane Kendrick writes for cjanerun.com, is on facebook as C.Jane Kendrick and tweets as CJaneKendrick. She lives in Provo with her husband and three children.
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