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 …
Come with me…
I scoop grandbaby in arms, eyes twinkling, grin pulled back, both hers and mine. And I hear the words of Peter Pan whispering, “Come with me where dreams are born and time is never planned.” But we are one, in this moment, when trust pools in her eyes like a soothing summer stream finding rest …
JoDee Luna Art 