The Last Piggyback.

I wake up and drag myself

…out
………..of
……………bed

Saunter towards the stairs to start making coffee.

At the top of the stairs the bathroom door is open, but a little sound comes from inside. I glance over and see my little girl, bum in the toilet half way down to the water, sleep in her eyes.

She’s finished and jumps up, washes her hands, (doesn’t flush of course) and comes over to me, hands dripping in the air.

Thoughts run through my head about how sore my knees are from the heavy lifting yesterday, my eyes still only half open. I have X, Y, and Z to do to get you ready for school.

Then I pick her up anyway.

Her arms wrap tightly around my neck and I tear up knowing that one day I’ll feel the same way when she asks, and I hope more than anything I’m not too weak to say yes. What if that is the last time she asks for a piggyback ride? The last time she wants to be picked up and held in my arms.

Every day they gain a little more independence, and have a little less dependance. From using the bathroom themselves, to pouring their own cup of milk. The gap of what they need me for grows larger.

I want to stand there, knees shaking, and soaking up the moment that has the potential to be the last.