Artist: ilya Green
I can’t get enough of watching him sleep, that fast hard sleep of childhood. The whispery dream talking that I try to understand but can’t quite make out the words. The violent kicking and fluttery eyelids. The tiny sleepwalker who gets up for “one more glass of water” yet doesn’t remember his midnight thirst in the morning.
When he is sleeping and I’m awake, I remember to slow down and watch. The little hands making a fist. The cheek seeking the cool side of the pillow. For a short time, the clock is still and I hold my breath and watch. I pull the covers up to his chin, the last tuck in of the night.
I can’t get enough of watching him sleep.