Your gentle in and out, your soft rise and fall are the rhythm by which I now live. You are reassuringly warm, and, despite it being my job to comfort you, I am the one who feels comforted. Solid and strong, the gentle ache in my arm reminds me that the task I’ve taken on is not easy. Little noises bring smiles, a snuffle here and there. And on you sleep and on I wait, still and calm until the next time you need me to be more than a warm home, more than a safe house.
Yes, responsibility presses hard against my chest, scarily and magically at the same time. A wonderful warmth. A wondrous weight.