There’s nothing that heals like a mother’s hug

Before September has even properly warmed our feet,
we already have autumn guests at home.

Along with the bumping apples, the splitting smiles of chestnuts, and the kitchen-scented plum jam…
they’ve arrived.

Uninvited and unexpected, the naughty “Hello Autumn” team.

They blast fireworks of fever, pound out salvos of coughs, giggle through the night during the scarce sleeping hours,
and romp around with their hair loose—forgetting entirely that they are uninvited guests.

I nurse them.
I love them.
And I fume a little when, having settled near little My…

The dog-like daily nap schedule is meticulously enforced:
20 minutes in the stroller.
15 minutes in the crib.
And then the round, sky-blue eyes open again.

Beautiful, like the early autumn sky.
But.
Sad and unrested.

I don’t give up.
I lie down beside her, quietly humming, trying to catch the scattered dreams.
It works.

Long curtains of eyelashes lower.
Breathing slows.
A sweet rainbow of a smile spreads across her face.

I don’t move.
I try not to breathe too deeply.
Just so she can rest!
Just so I don’t wake her!

My awkwardly tucked hand goes numb and thaws an uncountable number of times…
My back aches.

But.
My sleeps in my arms for almost 2 hours.
She wakes up alert.

I look into those big, sky-colored eyes
and think—
Maybe it really is holy truth that
a mother’s arms heal best…

Mua,
V.