I think a fair bit about what kind of relationship my kids will have when they grow up. Right now, they are tight, connected, the best of friends. R, of course, denies G is his best friend: “No, Mama! She’s my sister!” Little sisters, apparently, cannot be friends with their big brothers.
Regardless of their friendship status, they enjoy being together. They make each other laugh, they play together for hours, and they look out for one another.
It’s the looking out for one another that’s been on my mind. I recently found notes on my computer, dated 2012, from an exchange I had with R, when I got home late from work one night. I must have written it down because it grabbed at my heart. It was around 8:30 PM and…
As I was saying hello to my husband, R called from the other room. He couldn’t sleep; the rain was keeping him awake. We kissed and hugged hello; I hadn’t seen him since school drop off 12 hours earlier.
I got him a glass of water and he got up to visit the bathroom. The two kids share a bathroom, with doors gong into each of their bedrooms. R peeked into G’s room. She had fallen asleep with the light on.
“Why is the light on, Mama?” he whispered.
“I don’t know, love,” I replied. “I’m going to turn it off now.”
“Not all the way, Mama. Leave a little bit on in case she wakes up and gets scared,” he whispered again.
I stepped quietly into her room, and turned down the light’s dimmer. Darkness fell.
R looked in again to make sure there was enough light for G. He nodded his head slightly at me to confirm the light was sufficient and went back into his bedroom. He got into bed, sliding under his comforter decorated with rockets and stars. He promptly fell asleep, his head resting on the pillow, his long eyelashes against his cheekbones.
I love that he was looking out for her then and that he still does it now. I hope he does it always.