The Cries

I sit in the quiet darkness in the late night hours. These are my hours. My time to reflect. My time to read. My time to blog and read blogs. My time to snack. My time to be nothing to anyone else.

Until the cries.

They escalate from the bedroom. Whines, then cries, then "MA.....MA.....MA....." I assure him that I'm coming. Mama's coming, baby. Mama's here. We nestle in close together. I snuggle his sweet body. I smell his soft head. I kiss his chubby cheeks. Stroke his spiky, tousled hair. The crickets chirp. He nurses and all is well.

On a usual night he finally settles. Rolls over and goes back to sleep. But tonight it doesn't satisfy. Tonight he rolls and fusses and can't find his place. He rolls onto the mattress on the floor where his sleeping sisters lie. Their arms and legs are intermingled, leg on neck, face in foot...and there is no room for the baby. Back to mama, he whines and cries. Finally we walk around the house in the dark.

We walk and rock. I put on his favorite song, "Jellyman Kelly." And slowly he drifts back to sleep. We walk some more. And then I lay him back on that soft bed in the moonlight. And I look up at those hand painted doves on the wall. Ready to fly out the window.

Sometimes I wish I could be those doves, and fly far away from the troubles of this life. To fly and be free and sail with the wind. But not now. Now is the flight school. Now I am teaching the little birds to fly. They have a long while before they'll leave the nest. At this point they rarely leave my bed. My side. I feed them their worms and I help them spread their wings a little. But not much. Not yet.

I wonder if I'm keeping them too close. Day after day we are together. Morning, noon, and night they are my companions. And sometimes my little birds rustle my feathers. My little birds tweet so loudly. My little birdies beg for worms. My little birdies need their feathers cleaned. Mama bird is tired.

But not too tired. Not too tired to nurse through the night. Not too tired to chase during the day. Not too tired to teach. To guide. To love. Mama has a lot to give these little ones before they leave the nest. She needs them close now. She needs them to know that mama is here.

Mama will always be here. And one day, a long way off, I will watch the last little bird take flight. And I will want so bad to have those little baby birdies by my side. I'll want to hear those loud tweets. I'll want to feed those worms and clean those feathers.

But most of all, I'll want to hear those sweet cries for mama in the night. Those cries that give me purpose.

Those sweet cries give me life.