Hey,
Merry Christmas!
I'd planned to post this early in 2022. I didn't. She's 12 now. Those childlike days are already gone. Still young but the innocence is over.
I found this poem recently from 2012. When Tilly was about one turning two. A decade ago. Reading it now, I'd forgotten all about these routines, hence proving why it was so important to write it down.
It was marked, not to be published. I've decided to share it after all.
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Sanctuary
It’s as the name implies
I could say little else
Yet will give you a peek
Into a special place
A room with a closed door
With routines of two
A one
Who is two
The other
Significantly older.
Their time is brief
Together
Yet, as special as it can get
Father and daughter
Yet also
Like a couple of mates
Telling stories
And singing songs
Except one of the mates has a bottle.
She likes the stories
As it’s never quite the same
For each telling
Though the familiar relaxes her
As I rarely read the text
But create my own version
Whatever it takes
To keep her entertained
Yet calm
And happy.
The books go down
I fire up the night light
And the main light goes off
I lay next to her
In the near dark
While she finishes her bottle
And I sing lullabies
From centuries past
And Beatles songs
And she hums along with me.
This is the most simplest of times
And holistic
And pure
And though it’s almost nightly
A routine
I know that it exists with an end date
As who knows
Where I’ll be in future
Or how she will be
With me
As teenage times
Are meant to be trying
But I would like you
And especially her
To know
That there’s nothing
More spiritually wholesome
And meaningful
Than those quiet moments.
She finishes the bottle
I scoop her up
Cuddle her
Kiss her
Make her laugh
And ease her into the cot
Goodnight
darlin
See
you in the morning.
She is content
But not more than I.
Love
you.
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| Late 2012 |
 |
| 10 years on - early 2022 |
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