Warm milk

I hear the bed creek in the room above me. It’s not the creek of someone turning in sleep, but that of someone who cannot find slumber. I sit, quietly tapping on the iPad…another creek. I rise from my chair and walk through to the kitchen. I take the milk out of the fridge, a cup from the cupboard. Warm milk…your nighttime friend…I take it up to you, knowing it will be welcomed.

I open the door and your eyes squint, the light, bright after an hour of sleepless dark. Of course, you know I have brought you warm milk. You smile a comforted smile and say, ‘thank you, you are kind.’ I smile back as you put your hand on my shoulder and drink. Then, with a warm belly and warm hearts, we cuddle and say goodnight.

You lay back down, ready now, for sleep.

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