Catch it, hold it

You snuggle in beside me, claiming the crook of my arm, like the last piece of our favourite puzzle finally finding its place. I rest my cheek against your precious head, waiting for this moment to land so I can try to catch it, hold it, before it skitters away. It's hard to be present these days when my mind is a turbulent ocean, each worry crashing endlessly into the next, stealing my breath. Stealing a lot of things. I'm scared, baby girl. But I won't let you see it. If I can catch this moment... if I can hold it. If I can feel your warmth beside me, hear your little breath inhale, exhale, like the first summer breeze moving the cold fog of morning... then hope will crest. It will push the worries to shore until they recede like mere foam, turning jagged rock into polished stone. I take in your big, blue eyes, your halo of light hair, the way your nose crinkles as you smile up at me. Your face is the sun, unmarred by worry. Your eyes are full of joy and curiosity and mischief. I can see you years from now, kindness and grace wrapped in steely strength, persisting through shadows that already lurk -- shadows I will hold off for as long as I can. I can see you forging dreams you haven't dreamt up yet. And I... I hold on desperately, already feeling this moment skitter away, torn from my grasping fingers. Because I never thought my dream -- my greatest hope for you, for your brother, for all of us -- would be peace.