Kayli is reading Harry Potter.
She’s fully immersed in wizards and wands and spells. I watch her get lost in wonder with only one or two Responsible Mama Twinges - Is it too dark? Is she too young?
I’m that mom letting her kid read that book and I’m not even all that worried about it. (So there.)
At nap time we lay shoulder-to-shoulder, our breaths align, our page-turns the only interruption to our Together Quiet.
Each of our fingers wrap tightly around the spines of hard cover books, wishing that maybe just once, we could touch the magic on the inside.
I’m (re)reading one book ahead, so I can keep up with her lost. It tugs at me that I won’t always be able to do so.
“Kay?” I slow rustle, turning towards her. She mirrors my quiet noise and we face each other.
Almost-closed curtains wrap us in, a single stream of sunshine peeks through.
It’s whisper weather in here.
So I do.
I whisper to my girl about days before babies and homework and after school activities when Jason and I used to get lost in this same way.
Late into the night we’d sprawl and curl and splay onto this same yellow couch, reading Harry Potter out loud.
She opens her eyes and purses her lips in a way that surely means, “Mo-om!”
And just like that we’re on the flip side of, “putting her down for a nap so I can rest” to spending our naptime together, giggling about books and boys.
I breathe in her chocolate eyes and apple shampoo and the big book resting on her chest beneath clasped fingertips.
“Do you want to read together with me?” she asks. And of course, I do. We tilt our heads close, and get lost within this new together.