34 years old but still living in the same body that first received the tickling warmth of his breath on the lobe of my ear; his lips’ tender press in the crease of my neck. My same back to his belly. My same belly filled, that night nearly 10 years ago, with the warmth of … Continue reading
Tagged with marriage …
The meaning of my every day
A day without my son is like a day without air. How did I breathe before he entered the world? Every night as his eyes flutter toward sleep I lift him in my arms and kiss his cheek, gently pressing my lips to his impossibly soft skin just long enough for him to shake free … Continue reading
Emily Dagostino 