They sit together like this every night, his downy head nestling underneath her chin. Moonlight peeps through the window spreading a glow over the tiny room filled with baby things. All is calm, all is quiet other than the rhythmic sound of chair runner against hard wood floor. She considers all the babies soothed in this old rocker, handed down from past generations. He wraps his warm hand around her finger. She breathes him in. Powder, milk, sweetness. She wonders who he will become.
photo courtesy of mvictor @ morgueFile |
This was written especially for GBE 2: Blog On Week 130 – Prompt: a conversation with no wordsโฆ
talya
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
I miss those quiet moments sometimes
Me too.
What a beautiful picture ๐ I love these times snuggled with my little ones.
Thanks Amanda. Sweet times.
Lovely reminders of sweet times.
Thank you Dorothy.
Mmmm, love this. These moments with my babies and then my grands have all been so precious. Beautiful.
Thank you!
Wonderful post. It’s been awhile since my babies held these sort of conversations with me.
http://joycelansky.blogspot.com
Me too Joyce:(
That picture is enough for an entire post. If you’ve ever held a tiny baby’s hand, it’s enough.
Thank you Melissa.
WOW i felt like i was there in that moon lit room..and i heard the rocker!!!! AMAZING WRITE!!!
Thank you Brenda!
As often happens, Brenda spoke my words. I did hear the rocker creaking the floor and the smell of the baby was vivid. Excellent piece, excellent conversation.