Last night, it started to storm.
You looked at the sky and heard the cracking thunder,
and you turned to me and said,
“This is going to wake him up.”
As I poured my tea you went to his room,
but no, it was just the kettle’s cry.
But then, as we readied ourselves for bed,
we each in turn heard him yell out.
You said you would go, you wanted to go,
coming out moments later with him on your shoulder.
And as I watched you carry him in your arms,
into our bed, and lay down beside him,
I was reminded that you give up more than just effort
to work so hard to take care of us.
You also sacrifice time away from these little lives,
lives that you love more than your own,
and I was reminded that it is the love you provide,
that shelters us from the storm.