I taught the twins to give “Eskimo kisses.” Levi leans in, all serious, and clasps my head in his hands, one on either side. Then he swipes his tiny nose side to side against my own. It is unbearably cute.
Isaiah has become a prolific kisser, especially when it comes to prolonging the bedtime routine. He also grabs hold, wrapping his arms around my neck and planting three, four, loud smacking kisses on my cheek. When he wants a hug he says, “Me take hug,” like he’s taking a dose of children’s ibuprofen, a little something sweet to get him through the night.
“Me lovin’ you,” I whisper to Isaiah as he rides on my hip, high and happy.
“Me lovin’ you,” I say my words brushing past Levi’s ear as he hangs from my neck like a monkey.
Last night as my husband and I sat watching TV, the loveliest breeze kept creeping unexpectedly through the window. Cool and fresh, it caressed us and I couldn’t refrain from commenting on it every time.
Sitting by the front window in the morning, thrown open to the morning’s coolness, another breeze pulls me away again and again from the laptop’s screen. The gentle air turns my head toward the mountains and in it somehow I sense the presence of God.
That breeze grabs hold of me, all serious and light at the same time, like the voice of God whispering, “Me lovin’ you,” and I drink it in with body and soul, a dose of something sweet, like Love, to get me through another day, another night.
This post is linked with Five Minute Friday on the prompt "Whisper."