“Daddy, are you coming?” Three or four children stood at the top of the stairs in their fuzzy pajamas.
“You go get in bed,” A “Daddy-voice” hollered from the living room. “I’ll be coming soon.”
We giggled and ran to our beds and burrowed under the covers. A few minutes later we heard the heavy, familiar step on the staircase. The tenth stair creaked.
Daddy had a hard time being real stern when it came to a handful of irresistible children clamoring for him to come tuck them into bed.
Now I sit, past midnight, on an early Saturday morning. I remember. Nostalgic thoughts wash through my heart like a river.
I consider the moment I am living now. It is February 12th, 2011. My husband is sitting at the end of the dining room table. He just finished writing the rough draft to a beautiful poem. Guitar in hand, he is working on transforming the words into lyrics of a song. A beautiful song.
This moment touches my heart. My soul sits in rapture. I will never live 12:18 am on February 12th, 2011 again.
Today I did math for an hour-and-a-half with one of my little students. I won’t ever forget that tutoring session. Tonight my husband and I did one of our most favorite things to do. We went grocery shopping. I choked on my husband’s root beer – I was laughing at him again.
I hug these thoughts to myself.
I remember how comforting it was to have my Dad climb the steps to my bedroom and tuck me into bed. He always kissed my forehead and it didn’t matter that he had thirteen children. He prayed over each one of us – every night. For as long as I can remember.
I love you Dad. Thanks.
I’m glad I can tuck my memories away, deep and safe under the covers. Remember.
Yawn. I think its time to go get all tucked in.