Sometimes, just sometimes, our whirlwind falls asleep in the day. She tries with all her might to fend it off, asking for food or things to do, but she succumbs to slumber.
When she's laying there, squirming from side to side and snuggling in it's hard not to love the paradox of her restless peace. Her fine wild hair matting with every movement and fused to her forehead with sweat. She talks in her sleep, unfinished conversations from earlier, probable dreams. I wonder in amazement that surely it was only seconds ago I watched her lay silent as a tiny babe pondering what she could be thinking. And now, now I can hear those thoughts.
I could sit and gaze at those tiny shell ears, thick luxurious lashes and beauty spot for hours, knowing all too well that this time is fleeting. I watch and try fruitlessly to trap time in my heart so I can still see these days long after they have passed.