Little Hand

Last night, in the middle of the night, Sully called out to me.  Mom.  In a daze, I went to him and slipped into his bed.  This is what I do; no sense in losing any sleep.  I turned on my side, my back to him, and he said softly, please turn around.  Face me.  I'm scared.  In the quiet and the dark, I saw his little hand reach out for my face.  He held it like I hold his.  In that very moment, a heaviness that has been weighing me down the past few days lifted.  I suppose we cannot put a time on when caring happens, or the sweetness of something soft and gentle.  We take it when it comes.  We know what it is when it is right there in front of us, and we say Okay and Thank you.