Tonight, I listened to my child sing.
8 PM. The house was quiet, with only the soft glow of the nightlight casting shadows in the corner of the room.
Lying beside my child, holding their tiny hand, I told a bedtime story.
They listened silently.
I thought they might have dozed off, since there was no response—just stillness.
I became more aware of the warmth in their little hand. And then, from somewhere deep inside me… a rhythm began to stir.
I started to hum.
There were no lyrics, no fancy words—just a mother’s heart, lifting its voice in song.