A stillness blankets the nursery while I rock baby to sleep.
The sliding rocker glides back and forth as she nestles sweetly in my arms, her tiny hand fingering folds of flannel.
In this moment, we don’t have to be anyone or do anything except rock. In this moment, we are enough—baby and Grammy, soothsaying away our have to’s and must do’s.
While in the nursery, I stop fighting my failures…I cease striving to change. I only try to find words to describe the magic.