All I Need

There are times when I think about my life in a larger context, about who I am beyond motherhood. I think about myself as a writer and what that will look like in the years to come. I think about becoming a student again, becoming a teacher perhaps. Sometimes I become anxious for my life outside these walls, on the days when Lucas doesn't nap and the house isn't clean and I'm not certain what's for dinner and it all seems so mundane. It's not often, but these moments happen. I get wanderlust. I get impatient.

A lifetime ago, you slept in the sunlight without a care.
But then there are these moments: where I sneak into his room in the middle of the night, before I go to sleep. Where I lean over his crib to get a better look at his face in the quiet darkness. Where I gently put my hand on his stomach and stay, feeling him breathe in and out.

And in these moments, I wonder how anything exists outside me and him and the darkness. How could there be more? Why would there be more? This is all I need.