These things happen.

I am sitting in the bed with Eleanor. She is giggling in that perfect way that she does. She sits on my stomach as we talk about ponies, and she bounces with an overflow of pure excitement. She babbles words that sound like your name, my name, nonsense. She leans forward, so slowly, and her face descends upon my own. She touches her forehead to mine, very gentle, and hums softly. We stay just like that. It is as if the universe pauses, waiting for something to happen.

Later, I put Eleanor to bed. I kiss her on both cheeks, and draw the blanket up around her.

I return to sit on the edge of the bed, and pull out our only photos of you. I imagine you, always at the threshhold of the door. You peek around, always in long sleeved pajamas with bare, pink feet. You grin and wrinkle your tiny nose. I wag my finger, smiling in a way that lets you know you should be napping. But, you approach, and I pull you up next to me. You lay your dark wavy hair on my lap, and I let you fall asleep so close to me.

I have let myself get away again. In the quiet moments, I find my hand gently stroking the still air. You must still be in bed.