Some nights

Tonight, she falls into sleep, screaming as she plummets toward slumber. I am singing. I am humming. I am stroking her forehead and cheek until her wet eyelids finally land and her mouth goes slack and soft. The second she reaches silent sleep, I miss her.

Some nights, she fades into sleep like a fog dispersing after sunrise.  Some nights, she nurses until I am sore and empty.  Some nights, she pulls my hair or bites my arm or kicks her feet.

Some nights, she climbs off her mattress and runs for the door where the crack between our bedrooms might reveal her father lit by the desk lamp and computer screen, working..."Daddeeee" she says. He turns. The chair creeks. A sigh slips from his smile. He stands and walks to see her, crouching to press another good night kiss to her cheek.

Some nights, she stares at me until her eyes flicker shut. Some nights, she pushes my face away.
Some nights, my nose touches her ear and her whimpers turn into deep breathy whispers.

No matter how it happens, as soon as she is asleep, I want to stay. I lie beside her, lingering for a minute or for many, staring at her still baby skin. When she is asleep, I somehow seem to love her more.