Teething

Restless

He cries even in the arms of Mama

Sometimes he desires both of our presences in order to calm

To find peace

I slip into the darkness of the room and move by their side

I feel the energy of their movement as she rocks them back and forth

The waves of our presences overlapping and intersecting — crossing and reforming

Felt

He begins to calm but still letting out soft whimpers occasionally

Existence is hard work, even at the most basic of levels

She tells me that I don’t have to stay in here

Uncertain whether I’m helping or unsettling

I rise and quietly make my way for the door