You are a non stop kind of kid, a runner, a jumper, a squirmer, a mover and shaker. It's tough to keep up with you most days. And there are moments I wish you'd slow down - even if for a little while. Just to give me enough time to catch my breath.
The only times you slow down is when you're asleep and when you're sick. And when you are sick, that is when you need me most. It's a tough game of 20 questions and I play it alone. While you are able to speak, you don't have the language to tell me what hurts.
And that Christmas when you came down with Scarlet Fever. That was the toughest. Your face, flushed. Your body splotchy red and burning hot. You wouldn't eat. You wouldn't drink. I had to sit you up and hold the straw to your lips. You lay in your bed. Not wanting to play, read or watch TV. And I lay beside you, pressing a cold wet washcloth on your forehead. You didn't even have the energy to push my hand away like you normally do when you're sick.
You didn't care about Christmas. Or about the presents under the tree. Neither did I.
For those few winter days, you let me sit beside you, with my arm around your shoulder. Not once did you try to wriggle from out of my reach. You leaned against me or rested your head in my lap. You reached for my hand when I tried to walk away. If you weren't so sick, I would have basked in the glory of that moment. But I couldn't All I wanted was for you to get better and start running, jumping and squirming.
A few days after Christmas you were back to your usually self. And I didn't care that I was running to keep up with you. I was just happy you were up and running again.
You may have outgrown the crook of my arm, you may try to wriggle out of my reach and you may run too fast for me to keep up. But my hand will always be yours to hold when you need it.
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Disclosure: This a sponsored post in collaboration with Latina Bloggers Connect; all opinions are my own.