Swaddling

by Melinda Burns

The nurses taught me how to swaddle you wrapping you in a blanket like a burrito tucking in the ends and each side to hold you firmly bound like a papoose bundled in my arms. As you grew I carried you in a sling next to my heart patting your puppy head my other hand cradling your small round bottom You slept beside our bed in a wicker laundry basket, the same one my mother used for me. I would wake in the night and turn to see you waiting, eyes open, each of us attuned to an inner clock telling our time of need. From blanket to sling basket to crib to room of your own your world enlarges you need me less. The nurses taught me how to swaddle you no one has taught me how to let you go.