Lately at night, after Emerson relentlessly calls my name through her door, I lie next to her and whisper stories of when she was a little baby. “When you were little, just born really, I would wrap your naked little body up in my bathrobe and you’d sleep right against my chest listening to my heart beat.” Emerson watches me intensely when I tell her these stories, studying my face in the soft glow of the nightlight. And after I finish each one, she nods “yes” as if to confirm, that she did indeed listen to my heart.
After playing yesterday in the flower box, covered in dirt with two scrapped knees I found myself entertaining the idea of washing Emerson off in the sink. I asked her, “Emma-Claire? Would you like to take a bath in the sink, just like you used to as a baby?” She nodded yes, with her eyes wide. “Do you think you’ll still fit in the sink? You’re awfully big now…” To this, her wide eyed bewilderment changed to a solid, confident yes, in the form of a nod of course. And so the sink was filled up and she played quietly as the afternoon light streamed in the kitchen window. While Emerson may be running out of room in my kitchen sink, but she’ll always be my baby snuggled close to my heart.