Yesterday, my daughter woke up at 5:15 a.m. We’re in the process of weaning her (I’ll write about that later this week) and so her sleeping schedule is a bit “off.” She called for “mommy” from down the hall and I went to her. She seemed sleepy, but didn’t want to lay back down on her bed. I picked her up and walked out into the living room with her. I sat down on one of our brown leather seats and she rested her head on my shoulder. And – almost immediately – I felt her steady breathing, signaling that she was again asleep.
As I sat there holding her – watching the sun creep in through the blinds – I thought to myself, “This is what matters. This sweet little girl resting her head on my chest, her petite frame nestled against mine. Her long lashes and rosebud lips and bubblegum cheeks. Her sweet smile and silly laughter and compassionate heart.”
There were other things on my mind as I drifted off to sleep the night before (BlogHer and business licenses and photography and…). But in that moment, I remembered that she matters, our family matters, we matter. And the other stuff – well, it matters too, but so much less.