It may be hard to see … but hidden amongst the blankets, covers, pillows, and stuffed loveys, there are three pieces of my heart, tucked comfortably, quietly, snuggly, peacefully. It’s not often that I wake to this kind of soft silent stillness before the chaos and noise of eyes fluttered open. One by one by one each of my children woke somewhere among the stars and meandered into my room for a hug, an affirmation of safety, a reminder of security from some scary something or other in their mind’s eye. I was exhausted. And delirious. But somehow in the midst of my own exhaustion I was able to muster some semblance of support and parent them back to sleep. My eyes were half closed and my body tired, but somehow I managed. In the a.m. stillness I am being rewarded with a “sleep in” which I swear is mostly because as they toss and turn in the early morning light, their limbs are tucked and loved among themselves, each other, and mother. They sense my heartbeat and weave a limb under my thigh or next to my back just to make sure I’m near. Like the mothering of newborn babies, they love to linger close to me. My heart. My breath. My skin. My warmth. My love. I believe we crave this human connection and it never really goes away. Ever. I also believe many grown ups become numb to accepting this beautiful vulnerability. I am honored to nurture this connectivity in my children while they are still willing and wanting to nurture love. ?