In the Middle of the Night


Sometimes in the middle of the night when everyone else is sound asleep, I wake up and hear myself going -

aaaah. . . 

You see, there’s this little angel laying 2 feet from me, in the form of our little granddaughter, who earlier this year moved from a few minutes from out home where overnighters were a weekly occurrence to a six hour drive across the mountains - 

where we drive by clear, crisp, mountain streams and climb mountain passes, eat our favorite homemade chocolate ice cream at the same little restaurant perched on a hill overlooking the Columbia River 

where puffs of white clouds dot the bright blue sky - 

and there must be a symphony playing somewhere as I watch the birds soar and twirl, keeping a perfect rhythm as they float overhead. 

Somewhere in the midst of all the hugging and kissing, catching up and how was your drive, I hear words like - 

Kindergarten. . . 

and counting by fives. . . 

and when she smiles there’s two front teeth missing. 

How is that possible? 

Wasn’t she just a baby yesterday? 

So, maybe as I lay there in the middle of the night -  

maybe . . .  

all I wanted to do was - 

listen to her sleep. .  .

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