I often sit in my 5-year-olds’ room at night while they fall asleep. I think about the day. And then I write. To you. To them. To God. To me.
Being here soothes my boys. That’s my excuse.
But being here soothes me, too.
One of my twin boys rockets to Land of Sleep so quickly I’m always stunned he doesn’t give himself a concussion when his head hits his pillow with such force. He doesn’t so much fall asleep – which implies a process – as he becomes sleep. The switch flips, and he is enthusiastically done with his day. ...