Love.

After all was said and done, I lay in the dark with River, time for night night. In the quiet I wonder if I should tell her what I am feeling. Yes.

I confide, "River, I like being your mama." I say it like a woman.

From the one who barely strings words together, tonight a strand of pearls. "Mama, I wike bean River." She says it like a wise one.

And it's one of those moments, roles fall away. Just darkness and silence and strong feeling. We slip from time and this could be any place, just now or our last lifetime.



So full we turn toward each other, giddy.

Tiny hands grab my cheeks, and she kisses.
"Tank you, Mama. Tank you."

Love.