I sat on the edge of my son’s bed after he fell asleep

Dear Delyara, He is getting older now, less talkative, more private, more likely to disappear behind a screen or shrug than tell me what’s really happening in his life. But when he sleeps, some part of the younger child returns to his face, and I can feel my whole body soften with the grief and gratitude of motherhood at the same time. Tonight I sat there for a minute longer than I should have. I was not checking if he was breathing. I was just looking at him and thinking how impossible this job is. You spend years wanting them to grow, and then one day they do, and their growing starts to hurt in all these quiet invisible ways no one warns you about. They need you less openly. They hand you fewer truths. They go inward. And still you love them with this unbearable physical force. I got up and turned the door almost closed, like I always do. He didn’t know I was there. That was okay. Some parts of motherhood are like prayer. Unseen and still essential.