This Might be the Last Time

• Recently, I’ve been aware of last times and missed opportunities.
• The last two times,
• with warm bottle in my hand,
• he had not wanted any of it.

• Had I missed my window to stop time and engrave the feeling and scent of him snuggled in my arms drinking his bottle?
• This time..
• when I visited he had just woken up from a nap.
• The bottle in the warmer,
• I piped up, “I’ll give him his bottle!”
• We settled into the couch,
• the weight of his body warm and relaxed.
• The Dayton Arizona game was on and he started in on the bottle.
• In one hand he held his blue pacifier,
• the other hand searched and found some of my hair to play with.
• The wisps of curls tickling my chin,
• inhaling the smell of his hair.
• Noticing his little feet, usually in motion, content to be resting.

• He was nestling in my lap,
• watching the game,
• having a bottle,
• playing with Nana’s hair,
• and I was drinking in every moment.