A Moment in the Sun

When you awake uneasy into an uncertain world, it's always good to have someone just to hold you. 
My daughter woke from her nap in tears yesterday. When my Beloved carried her out to me in the garden, her little face was red and waterlogged and her arms were already outstretched toward me. 
I took her, and she clung to me, my chatterbox wordless. I brought her over to a seat in the sun, and we sat. The spring sun was gentle, the mower roared around us, the cut grass was bright winter green, and the new leaves of spring vivid. And we held. My Beloved called for me to help with garden chores and I shook my head. Yard chores can always wait. My little one wanted safe arms around her. I won't always be there. I'll have to go to work, my little one to school. She'll have to deal with bullies and navigating the school grounds without me. One day she will take off in flight to see the world, or, when my chicks have all left the nest, my Beloved and I will. But now I can just hold her. Her face to my chest, her arms around me, my cheek on her curls. My arms around her, mimicking the time when she was held deep within me. My little fairy-princess in her pink tulle dress and sparkly pink gumboots (which she wouldn't take off to go to bed last night), dainty and assertive, with her deep chortle and bird-light steps. 
Hold.