a small window.

Last night my oldest came out of his room and asked to sleep in my bed.  He's seven and this was about thirty minutes after he had "gone to bed."  Normally, I would sigh and negotiate and then sigh again with a little more frustration and he would eventually head back to his own bed.  But last night, I didn't have it in me to negotiate or even to be frustrated, so I said sure.  He jumped in my bed, I tucked him in and he asked if I would stay with him.

My son is often a mystery to me.  He keeps much of his internal world bottled inside, but every now and again and always, always at night there is this small window that opens and there is a direct connection to his soul, he shares everything, he is open.  Last night I felt that small window crack open and so I sat next to him and I prepared to listen.

He instead wanted to listen. He asked me, "Mom, is there anything you have always wanted to be but didn't get to be?"  I told him that when I was his age, I really wanted to be a doctor, but I never told anyone.  He then began to talk, his soul revealed itself like a warm breeze though that open window, and I listened.  I listened to his dreams, I listened to his questions about the world, I listened to his profoundly detailed knowledge of the American Girl industry. I listened.

We spent an hour or so sitting on my bed talking, sharing, listening to one another.  We answered questions from a game set my husband and I created for each other before we had children (more on that soon), we did tarot spreads, we enjoyed one another.  My son is seven.  We spend a lot of time together and love one another deeply;  But there are these precious times where all of our defenses are down, a small window opens, and our souls meet.