This week I found myself performing the breathing test. Not the test to see how many drinks someone has had.
No, this is the one where you walk into your child’s room and listen for the sound of him breathing. Every mother I know does it.
With my son being sick, he is sleeping in the middle of the day. This is a rarity for him so I find myself going into his room every few hours. I know he is okay but I can’t keep myself from checking on him.
I guess it’s built into our genetic code. My mother did it with me, I do it with my sons, and I’m sure my sons will do it with their children.
Somehow I find comfort in this continuous cycle through the Ripples of Time.