In that tenderness I am floating away

by Amy Turn Sharp



We let the boy stay up late last night. We are pretty strict about our 7:30 bedtime round these parts, but there was something about the heat of the day and how it slithered into a remarkable evening that loosened me.

There was something about how patient he had been with mom and dad working all day at home. There was a good vibe and so we told him he could stay up to see the lightening bugs and stars. He fully appreciated it.

The fireflies were magical and his mouth formed perfect circles and his eyes were so very wide. Although it broke my heart that he could not remember last year's bugs.
These are amazing he said.
It also broke my heart that I have discovered he cannot remember our old house.
His old room. The place we started.
Were you really so little only last year Finn?

He could hardly brush his teeth or make it to his bed fast enough and he cried and cried simply because he was exhausted, but I didn't feel too bad about jacking up his circadian rhythm. He had a sparkly time, a perfect shiny night this summer. And I was a mama magpie swooping down and taking that glimmering moment and tucking it safe in my mind- safekeeping a memory for all of us.

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