I Do Not Know the Last Time We Told the Moon Goodnight

By Karen Miller
@karen_rose_m

I do not know the last time we told the moon goodnight
or when we last whispered goodnight, goodnight to the construction site

I do not know when we last discovered what the brown bear saw
or how we would catch a dinosaur

You now know what happens when you give the mouse his cookie
and what the letters do at the top of the coconut tree

You now know what hungry caterpillars eat
and about all the places that one person can go.

So now, when my heart aches for the boy with his bedtime stories, I go back to that place where the soft glow of your dinosaur night light shows me

how your eyelashes float all the way up to the sky.

Because I could never forget how your soft curls, like blankets of the fluffiest clouds, feel pressed under my chin as I rocked you to sleep 

night after night 

after long sleepless night.

Because even when I can’t remember the last time you climbed onto my lap to guess how much I loved you,

I know I’ll love you forever. 

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Guest poem written by Karen Miller. Karen lives in Colorado with her superhero husband and three boys in a house filled with LEGOs and strong coffee. She is a friend of Jesus, and loves her boys, sunflowers, and dirty chai tea lattes. She's rarely without a notebook, multiple pens, or a story about finding the goodness of God in her everyday life. You can find more of her writing on Instagram and her Substack, Home Among the Stories.