I watch her walking the floor, his head on her shoulder, then popping up, grinning at still being awake, still seeing the world around, then nestling down against all he has ever know as home.
Not so long ago it was I walking the night and she was nestled on my shoulder. You are right, I am having a conversation with my past self.
She’s not sure where she is going, she loves her babies, but baby care can be so boring. Does that mean she is a bad mother? Does that mean I will fail and mess them up somehow? How I longed for a fortune teller to tell me what to do- anything just to keep them safe and happy.
But I suppose that is the way it is. Women fall into motherhood, babies fall into our arms, and we walk the floors at night trying to get to our new love to sleep so we can figure out what our lives are all about,