The small features on Hana’s face smooth as I rock her.  Her eyes drift open and shut with the undulations.  There’s something unspeakable and sacred connected with these calm moments.  They are so rare anymore.  Her arms burrow between her body and mine.  Her knees fold under her round little belly.  She shifts her head from one side of my neck to the other, taking brief seconds to glance over my face before she rests her own against my shoulder.  My kisses patter across her forehead before I push us from the chair on the last rock forward.

She pulls away from my shoulder, puffy eyes curious about where we’ll go.  I lean over her bed.  She leans too, towards the bed.  I roll my arm over her belly and lower her in.  Her hand clamps over the cloth leg of her baby Belle doll, dragging it under her as she lands.  She releases the leg, posing her hands primly under her face, using the doll as her pillow.

Her eyes stare past the mesh border of her bed, pensive.  I tuck a Sesame Street quilt around her bundled shape, wondering what a baby has to mull over.  The quality of apple sauce?  The number of nightlights lining the walls?  What mischief she can unfurl tomorrow?

At the door, I blow a kiss at the back of her head.  There’s a smile in my thoughts.  Mommy needed this.  It’s not hard for me to cherish an easy night.