Empty Beds

Empty Beds

It’s quiet. There are no sounds of bedtime preparations. There are no sleepy negotiations to skip teeth brushing, or to start in our bed. There are only dark rooms and empty beds.

The boys are at their grandparents for a special holiday sleepover, and my heart is twisted in a pretzel of emotion. Gratitude for the silence and breathing space. Gratitude for the break from preparing meals, and breaking up arguments, and tending to the needs of others. But my heart twists in sadness over these things, too.

I can’t help but stare at the empty beds. My mind leaps to days ahead when they’ll be empty, but for other reasons. Sleepovers at friends, and sports games, and parties. And then, one day in the not so distant future, empty for good.

My eyes well up and a lump appears in my throat as I write this. Can it really be only a blink of an eye before we’ll be there? Time plays tricks on my heart and mind, and I crumble at the thought of losing this sweet childhood so quickly.

Tonight I will be thankful for the rest my body and soul have been craving. But tomorrow I will be even more thankful for the bodies and souls I am responsible for tending to.

Tonight there are empty beds. I honor the sadness I feel as I recognize that there will be many more nights like this. But tomorrow there will be little pajamas, and tucking in, and sweet dreams, and kisses. Tomorrow I will be whole again.