Sometimes, after you nap, I crawl into bed with you. I let you pull me into a big hug with your assertive insistence, and we snuggle. I sing along with whatever song Echo is playing (we had to name the dot in your room Echo because calling her Alexa made others in the house answer), and you insist on me singing straight into your ear.

And I memorize the moment.

I think about all the sweet heart warriors – and other warriors we know battling other difficulties – that have since become angels, and the tears already in my eyes from joy quickly get mixed with tears of heartache.

I don’t think you will ever outgrow your mama’s snuggles, but there may come a time when they aren’t possible anymore nonetheless.

So I take an extra moment, sometimes. I realize somewhere in our snuggling that you are actually holding me instead of the other way around. Slowly, skillfully piecing back together the places life has torn me apart. Your love is one of purity, with not a single string attached to it. With your hugs comes healing.

And I memorize the feeling.