The big brown chair.
When it was purchased there was no emotional expectation. No one foresaw any moments to be had in the chair except lazy ones that matched the couch.
But the lack of expectations was a mistake.
That brown chair has become ours. Mine and Eddie’s.
We melt into each other in that chair just minutes before bedtime.
He has his little yellow and green pipy and his well-worn lamby.
I am squished to one side in my fleece bathrobe while he is in a little ball on a pillow next to me.
My head rests ever so close to his soft, blond curls.
He is busy watching Wheel of Fortune and rubbing one of lamby’s ears across his nose.
He suddenly stops and turns to look at me.
Our faces are so close his little button nose is almost touching mine.
I can smell the lilac night time lotion on his skin.
A smile spreads suddenly under his pipey, and he quickly grabs the pacifier out of his mouth and leans in, mouth open.
His small, warm mouth covers mine quickly.
He giggles and whispers, “pssfff psssfff psssfff.”
His hand touches my check and he giggles again.
And just like that he pops the pipey back in his mouth and snuggles down under my chin.
But for me it is not over. I sit their smiling and glowing from within.
My baby boy loves me.
Most people would stop here and say, “of course he does.”
But it hasn’t always been so evident to me. That is the curse of PPD.
Those few minutes in the chair are ones that I will pack away in my heart and keep for always.
I wish Eddie could somehow also keep those moments in his heart.
Someday when he is a grumpy, angsty teen.
Someday when everything I do is wrong.
Someday when I am not there.
I wish he could see us like this.
Because it pains me to think he would forget these fleeting moments.
That he would forget the love between the two of us.