A Halloween Moment

Tonight as the last of the trick or treaters left the neighborhood and the moon poured into the guest bedroom and the ocean sounds from your sound machine surrounded us, I studied you. You clasped onto my hand and made little mouse sounds like you've done since birth when you're nuzzled into me taking your night bottle. I studied your cheeks and how round they were. I studied your face and how much it has changed in 7 months since the day I first met you. I studied your eyes shut so tightly.  

For a moment I pictured you at five-years-old tucked in my arm begging me to read you your favorite story one more time. I saw you at seven telling me about what happened at school that day. I pictured you at 11 asking me to leave the light on because you were still a little afraid of the monsters in the closet. I pictured you at 15 tired from soccer practice or band practice or choir practice or video game practice (whatever you choose as your passion). I saw you at 18 and I even pictured you walking down the aisle on your wedding day. 

I saw all these things in that moment. I realize years separate us from those moments, but if years fly like this first one has flown, then it truly is just moments separating us from those moments. 

I began to put you down in your crib and you collapsed on my chest like you were asking me to hold you just a little longer. And I sat there holding you for just a few more moments because some day you may not let me hold you. Some day the opportunity for these moments may not exist like they existed tonight on your very first Halloween.