I lie next to him, snuggling and enjoying the feel of his damp hair against my cheek. This nightly ritual is just a story and a prayer, but it warms me down deep in my soul. Lying there with his blue fire truck quilt pulled up to our chins, we talk about the day. He voices his worries and fears. He talks about his plans and hopes. I pray a gospel prayer and remind him of God’s unending love.

“Mom, I wish you could stay here tonight for a sleepover” he said.

My son is five and no longer a baby. He’s my second and last; I’ll have no others. It is nights like these that I wish time could slow down and even stand still.

To read more of this story, visit The Better Mom where I am guest posting today.