Tonight, I fell asleep with my boys. I had intended just to
put them to bed, kiss them goodnight, and say goodbye, for I would be leaving
early the next morning, and would not see them. Instead, as I lay next to
Beckett to rub his back and hum softly to him, he turned towards me, tucked his
small head under my chin, and nestled his face into my chest. I lay my arm
around him, and Hayes, in his sweet, subtle way, found my hand and gripped it
in his. I relished the moment, as I lay there over the covers, a gentle breeze
from the ceiling fan cooling my warm body. I felt their bodies rise and fall in
the disparate rhythms of their breaths. I squeezed Hayes’ hand once, twice,
three times. As he squeezed back, I dozed slowly off to the sound of crickets
chirping faintly from the open window, and rain pattering lightly on the roof,
and the low, lonely whistle of a cargo train in the distance. But then the
spell was broken. There was boisterous laughter from the adults in the living
room. Hayes twitched and woke, and pulled his hand from mine, for they had
grown sweaty with heat. I gently extricated myself from Beckett so as not to
wake him. I gave each precious boy a kiss goodbye on the forehead and a
whispered iloveyou, and silently
slipped from the room. When they wake in the morning, I will already be on my
plane home to New York. I may never get another chance to hold them as I did
tonight, but I will never forget.