Did you?

Did you notice that I am not really sleeping, even if I desperately want to? I am listening to your feet movements; I am guessing your location from the pressure on the bed sheet; and keeping myself ready to turn like a spring and catch you before you fall down from the bed.

Did you see that while you play under the table, I keep my left palm on the table corner and try to chat with a long-lost friend with just one hand on the keyboard. So that you don't hurt yourself when you stand up unaware.

Did you realize that these days I don't take my breakfast without leaving my chair several times? Because while you play in the balcony, I keep worrying about the wide gaps in the grill, too wide for your lean innocent body.

Did you notice that these days I close the doors very very slowly, no matter how irritating it may seem. Lest you should put your finger into the hinge channel, invisible to me.

Did you notice my swollen eyes? There are unspent nights floating in them. Did you realize that when you so merrily wanted to play with your father at the middle of the night, someone desperately wanted to hit the bed after a tiring day. Did you catch me sleeping at the edge of the bed so that you can toss and turn freely the whole night?

Probably you didn't. Nobody at your age does. Why your age, nobody even fifteen times your age does.

But when you grow up one day and sleep at the edge of your bed, looking at your own kid with a glint in your moist eye, probably something would replay inside your head. Probably you would realize what I realize today. You would see what I see today; My parents playing with me at the middle of the night, tired, sleepless but smiling, loving as always!