I want to fold your laundry. I want to wipe your spills. I want to cook dinners you complain about and wipe tears from your eyes. I want to referee arguments and scrub the floors you muddy. I want your dirty hand prints on my walls and your toys scattered across the floor. I want to hug you and be frustrated with you and work it out with you. I want to teach you. I want to help you with your homework. I want to fix things for you, I want to hold your hand. I want to sigh as I find holes in your jeans and leftover snacks in your room. I want to love you and know that at any moment I can open your bedroom door and sneak a kiss from your sweaty little heads as you sleep. I should only be so lucky to have the duties and the chores and the reasons to take care of you. I want it all, I want the work, the joy, the love.
I want my children and tonight I am a parent who gets to carry them sleeping from their bed to mine and wrap my arms around them and fall asleep with my face in their hair.
I am one of the lucky ones.
