Night Nights

A few weeks ago, I embarked upon The Great Purge.  That's when I open boxes that have been hugging the ceiling for several years at the top of linen closets.  I found some interesting things.  Photos, seashells, cards and letters, toys and stuffed animals...

Memory after memory dug ruts in my cheeks and paper cuts assaulted my fingers as I devoured each sheet of paper, many with grades housed in felt tip circles along with a cutesy sticker or a hand drawn smiley face.

I was tempted to wait another day to open a box that was labeled "Sheets and Stuff" but I immediately wondered why I'd bother to save old sheets and what kind of "stuff" was wrapped inside them.  Of course they were the tiny kind.  You know, the ones that fit crib mattresses and toddler size beds.  

Well then.  

Near the bottom, I noticed a vaguely familiar yellowed garment that took me by surprise.

And then I remembered.

This was the nightgown I woke up in every morning after my second child was born.  Soft cotton, roomy and  comforting, it instantly took me back two decades.

I longed to see it in its glory again.  Not that it was beautiful back then, but because my son saw me in it every single weekend morning when he woke up and HE thought it was beautiful and that I was beautiful in it.  As long as I was wearing it, he knew that I was his for the entire day.  If I was dressed for work when I kissed him from his sleep to get him ready for his day, he realized he'd soon be at daycare while Mommy went off to do whatever it was she did that kept her from him.

One morning after I woke him, he actually demanded, "No, Mommy, take off that dress!  Put on your night nights!"  

I pulled the gown to my face as I remembered those tender years.  I needed to see it like it once was.  Three soakings and extended washings later, it started to come alive once again.  No longer yellowed, it's been on a hanger in my room ever since.

Til now.

Tonight I'll put on that gown and sleep in it for the first time in many years because this is the last night my boy will spend in this home. Tomorrow he's moving out with three friends to a house near campus.  I'm lucky to have had him here for his first two years of college, but I guess it's time for the nest to be empty. 

Why does time move so very fast?  

Stay this day and don't be tomorrow.

He'll wake up for the last time in his bed, in this home, in less than 10 hours.

And in the morning, I'm going to wish I could stay in my night nights for a little while longer...

But right now, it's still today and he still lives here.

And he can always, always come back home.

Night night...