In the wee, dark hours

I watch you tonight.  Minutes before bedtime.  And I think.  Then turn to Dada and comment about how quickly you're growing up.  The faster time moves, the quicker I am to cherish. 

It's after 1 in the wee hours of the night.  I cradle you in my arms.  My hand rests on your chest.  I sit quietly.  Still.  Memorizing, feeling each beat of your heart.  The rise and fall of your chest.  I listen to you breathe.  A slight snore.  

And I thank God. Here in the wee, dark hours.