No More Words

It has been a rough night.  Over an hour to get the screaming infant comfortable enough to finally drift into her peaceful slumber and the same amount of time spent on the toddler whose entire world had changed.  With no schedule and no furniture of our own, his nighttime routine was more or less a screaming marathon as he tries to cope with the newness.  Sadly, knowing all of this did not make it any easier as I try and comfort both my babies as best I can.  Then again, how can I comfort my babies when I feel just as jostled as they do?  How can I comfort them when I stand in need of comfort myself?  Yet, I do what I can until finally they sleep, although restlessly.  My daughters snores in  her crib and on the other end of the hall lies my son who insisted on sleeping next to mom, so after many compromises he slumbers on his mattress right up next to my bed.  Unable to risk waking either of the grumpy monsters and worn to the bone myself I collapse in the hallway, in-between both rooms and sit.  The dark silence comforts me.  Trying to be as unaware of his presence as I can I try and ignore the fact that he sits down next to me.  I allow my thoughts to wonder, but they keep getting pulled back to his presence.  I wait for him to say something, but there are no words.  I am tired.  Tired of trying to understand.  Tired of trying to initiate.  Tired of the same old words.  So we sit, there in the dark hallway together.  I don’t know why he chooses to sit here with me, but I sit anyway and let go as much as I can of all the burdens that sink me throughout the day.  I wonder what he thinks about, but I don’t ask.  There is no point.  Eventually life no longer suspends itself and the aching pain in my back grieves me as does the parched throat and a to-do list a mile long.  We stand as if on cue and go our separate ways.