Childlike

What dreams dance in the late evening moments, seconds, before a child-or the childlike- fall softly, peacefully, into slumber? There in the blue of nightlight and doze, those memories, flashes of color and feeling, these dance flickering across the heart, opening the gateway to dreamland. And, if we are very lucky, they will dance again in the day, when we can think on them properly.

Memories flood my mind. The glass flashes as it moves. Melody is a memory: there is much pink and blue, and a kind of energy that is waiting, rushing to adventure but quietly pinned within a heart full of imagination.

Colors flash again, and I’m returned to singing a soft lullaby to my child. But for an instant, I was the child again.

That is one magic of being a Mommy.