Putting a child to bed

I prop the book open on my chest
and begin to read
His foot presses against my leg
soft and familiar
as a stone worn smooth by the sea
I rub his back and flutter my lashes to his
-I love you, mom
He whispers
Tears catch in my throat
I swallow them down and flip off the light
There is something every moment
to move us intensely
If we felt it all, we’d never survive


© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni