Dichotomy of a Mother

The early morning light, sneaked its way through the tiny slits in my curtains. I pulled myself up quietly to peer into the little cot next to my bed. My heart swelled as I gazed upon the angel resting quietly within.

Slowly like a snake in the tangled forest, I shifted my legs so as not to make a sound. As I watched this tiny face, I had an overpowering urge to kiss his little eyes and stroke his soft hair. I wanted to feel like this forever...a thought so powerful that I was suddenly thrust into a moment of anxiety. I realised that this moment wouldn't last forever; my little angel will grow up and one day he will no longer want me to stroke his hair or kiss his lids. My heart panged with a feeling of deep loss and grief as an image came to mind: a swing, motionless in the cold morning, empty where once my angel used to sit and play; the sweet sound of his laughter filling the garden with joy.

I held back the tears for fear of waking him up, but as I pictured this frosty scene from my future, I felt a wave of sadness encircling my heart and I realised, I had to let go.