The hallway was silent, filled with the soft glow of a nightlight. I walk slowly, quietly. My bare feet taking me noiselessly to my destination. My old flannel nightgown swishing around my ankles.
I trail my fingers across the cool, hard surface of the much abused wall. Feeling the nicks and dings. Visualizing the scuffs and marks left by toy guns and light sabers. Hearing the echo of giggles and shouts, the arguing of sibling rivalry. The stomping of running feet. Wondering why in the still of the night these happenings should ever bother me.
I step into the closest room. Resting against the door while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I move carefully to the nearest bed, dodging discarded clothes and toys. I slowly drop to my knees and rest my cheek against my sleeping son's face. I breathe in deeply, smelling his pineapple banana shampoo, reveling in his warmth. I listen closely for his deep even breathing. I place my hand on top of his head and bow my head in prayer, giving my precious son to the Lord. Praying for his needs. Asking for wisdom and strength as I walk through the days with my gift from the Lord. Praying that I will remember to enjoy these days when my home is full with young, energetic children.
I bring my lips to his forehead and leave a lingering kiss. Stealing one more breath of little boy sweetness. I rise to my feet and repeat the process three more times, before I walk back down the silent hallway with my heart full of love, thankfulness and promise.