Some nights, when we can't sleep, we come upstairs, so that Daddy can sleep. We know that he works hard and has long days and can't nap ever, not like us, who only can't nap sometimes. Samara usually falls asleep on my tummy and I marvel at the memory of her once fitting inside. She moves up and down with my breathing and no cough or rumble can wake her. Then, when she's slept enough, she squeezes me as tight as she can, gives me on those deep intestinal/bladder type kicks, for old time's sake, and smiles when she remembers I'm right there. I pray we always have the time for this kind of perfect nothingness.
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