Sometimes I have to go to work really early or get home from work really late.
Both mean making as little noise as possible (I’m talking to you, front door). And changing in the dark (OK, Google, turn off the light).
And visits to a darkened bedroom to kiss a child.
Her bed used to be smaller. Much smaller. Rails and bumpers. That pink blanket.
And there’d she lay.
While the words of a tired prayer reached up, I’m pretty sure He heard. Not entirely sure she did. Maybe. Still still.
But then this morning. 5:02.
Two steps in. A sleepy eye, opened.
“Have a good day, Daddy.”
All is well.