When I Stop, I Cry.

Time keeps rearranging the rooms where we once held our children

He’s 8 now, which means he does not always need me there. But sometimes he still does. Sometimes he still wants the weight of another person beside him, the reassurance of a body nearby, the quiet confirmation that he doesn’t have to surrender to sleep alone. I know these nights are numbered. Not in some dramatic sense, and no one has announced that the…