Just Two More Minutes

All my life I have heard the story about wanting to be rocked . . . JUST TWO MORE MINUTES at nap time or bedtime.  My mom would always sing “You Are My Sunshine” and read a book, or rub my toes.  It was such a safe place, nestled in her arms. I was never ready for her to stop.  I never wanted to go to sleep. I had too much to do, too many things to be curious about. ROCK ME TWO MORE MINUTES.

My dad would rock me, enjoying the rest he got from all the hard work on the farm.  I’d hold on this overall straps, feeling his hard calloused hands, and big nose. . . ROCK ME TWO MORE MINUTES. He’d be so tired. . . I’d usually get my way–maybe it would turn into fifteen minutes.

Those were safe times. Now, I’m feeling the same with my retirement looming ahead of me.  I’ll stay just two more years. But what will I do then? The safety of school. . . the love I feel. . . the joy and happiness it brings. . . maybe I’ll say . . . JUST TWO MORE YEARS. . . for several years to come.

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