3 am.

a little shadow shuffles in my room, 

rubbing cobwebs of sleep 

from her eyes, 

she asks faintly, her voice filled with 

little cracks, 

"Can I sleep with you, mom?"

I pull the sheets back in invitation, 

my daughter shoveling her little bones in 

next to me. 

She is warm and soft,

her hair lingering like a feather 

against my cheek. 

she sneezes twice, 

one of them landing 

all over my face, 

I laugh and say, "eeeww Norah! 

you got me right in the ear!" 

she ignores me and rests her head on my shoulder,

the rest of her body sticking to mine.

I lift my heart in thanks to the Father, 

for this little daughter of mine, 

overwhelmed with thanksgiving and love for her.

She shifts and rearranges herself, 

but still making sure her feet 

are planted on my legs. 

I run my hand over her tiny back, 

it is smooth like a stone, 

a rolling hill.

I let my hand rest, 

feeling the rise and fall of her breaths, 

in and out, 

so rhythmic and I am aware that 

life flows just beneath 

my fingers.

My heart rests 

as she dives deeper into her sleep, 

just cherishing this quiet moment 

in the dark, 

when there's time to think, 

to be thankful, 

so so thankful 

For this tiny gift.

I love you so much, Norah Komali.