When it was quiet, and I was sure they were out, I sat in the tiny bed and dared not make a sound. I looked around and pretended I was little like them. I saw the papers behind the dresser, the sock on the floor, the clock that ticks but tells the wrong time.
I knit until I didn't and just sat and mapped my move.
Even if I write it down I wonder what I'll really recall. Even if I memorize, will it still feel the same? Mostly I just hope they remember the feeling of having me here, sitting and waiting for them to drift off in the safety of my keep, the click of my needles, and the hum of my whispered song good night. Mostly I just hope they know how much I love them.
- linking up, just write