On permanence

You fell asleep on my lap this afternoon, darling boy. This happens less and less often with every passing day. Your chubby hand clutched onto the inside of my elbow, your foot hung up on my chest, you slept deeply and peacefully. I watch your face as you drift off, waiting for your eyelids to close all the way and for the breath in your chest to hitch in exactly the right way - this is how I know you're finally asleep. Experience has taught me that if I wait too long to transfer you, you'll wake up, so I can't admire your sweet bowed lips or your rosy cheeks for very long.

I press my cheek to your toes, which are located conveniently close to my face, and whisper to you, "Let's stay like this forever."

"No," your toes reply quietly, as they flex and resist the pressure of my desperate wish, "nothing is forever."