At 4:50 am I am awake.
Before the alarm clock, or the sun rise.
My mind is a whirl with the day's possibilities.
Yet the bed is warm. My diaper is wet. And your sleeping form next to me, so inviting.
So instead of getting up, I roll towards you.
Half asleep, you lift your arm, welcome me into your embrace.
Then, when I'm firmly under your arm, you lock it in place, holding me down.
Without words, you tell me that these few scant minutes belong not to the day ahead, but to you.
I fuss a bit, struggle, as is my way, enjoying the way you hold me.
And you whisper, gently, but firmly, "Be still."
Which means you love me.
I love you, too.