Rocking in a chair watching my baby nurse. His hands folded, his legs crossed. I stroke his legs and doze, slipping in and out with the rhythm of his suckling.A moment of peace and contentment and perfection. I want to remember this moment. Etch it in my memory to recall when things are not so peaceful.
But such moments are fleeting and they disappear in the busyness of the day. Like the whiff of lavender floating on a Spring breeze, or that first sip of iced tea in the sweltering summer sun.
I feel, for a moment, fulfilled. At ease. My heart knows no yearnings, only contentment.
For a moment.
But such moments are fleeting.
Especially once you discover your two year old has blue hair. And no bangs. Because someone got hold of the toothpaste and the scissors.
