In these rare, quiet moments, when Miles is sleeping, I sit, alone in my chair, and I think.
I think of a time when toys did not decorate my living room. A time when there was no jelly to clean off the couch. A time when I could come and go when I pleased, without worrying about a nap schedule. A time when sleeping in on the weekends meant not getting up until noon. I think of a time before Miles.
And it hurts.
Because I didn't know how much I was missing.
I turn my thoughts to the present. And I wait for him to wake up.
I wait for that angelic smile that will melt my heart. I wait for the tousled hair, that will never stay brushed. I wait for the hugs, and the kisses, and the mess. I wait for the thundering of tiny footsteps running through the living room. I wait for the tickles, and the giggles. I wait for the soft hugs, and the piercing squeals of happiness that cannot be contained.
And my heart sings for the joy of it.