I love my two little children more than my own life. Whenever they sleep with me, I would cover all of us under the same blanket and hold onto them lest they would disappear into the deep of nights.
There's nothing more content than immersing myself in the children's body warmth and falling into sleep surrounded by the coolness of the night. Although, waking up to a brand new day with them sleeping soundly by my side would probably better that.
It was a hot night - nothing unusual considering the hot spell we've been having lately; I was tired - as usual after a hard day at work; and I don't usually switch on the air-conditioning unit in my room until I've decided to call it a day.
But it was a tad hotter that night; and I was a speck more tired; so I switch on the air-cond a bit earlier than usual and clicked into my nightly online escapade. Barely 10 minute spent online, my mind was already getting blurry white and my eyelids were feeling heavy. I laid myself into the soft comfort of my bed and pillows amid the cooling air for a brief nap.
As I was wandering in the foggy edge of total unconsciousness, I was pulled back into the bright light by the rustling sound when my 7-years-old little boy climbed into bed beside me.
"Baba's too tired to read tonight ..." I murmured.
When they were younger, my children used to insist on having their bedtime stories read by the mersmerising voice (ahem...) of mine despite my tired plea. As they grow older, they started to be more understanding - either that or they are just fed up with the futility of their insistence. Also, as they grow into the bedtime reading habit, they're more willing to read themselves to sleep.
As the air was getting cooler in the room, I was shaken to consciousness again, this time coming all the way back from the darkness of deep slumber.
"I'm still tired, boy," I murmured again, in a slightly agitated tone.
"Baba, Baba, come sleep under the blanket with me," my son whispered.
I had the sweetest dream that night ...
Or, was that the dream I had?
I cherish all the tender moments I have with my children. When it happens, I'm sure my heart couldn't contain another ounce of contentment. But when the children tug my hand and yearn for my companionship in such manner during such time, the contentment in my heart will melt, overflowing in smooth heavenly bliss.
I'm going to miss them, very, very, very much when they grow up and no longer yearn for my presence by their side as such.
Don't grow up too quickly ...