Bedtime in the fall

I always walk downstairs at bedtime to check on Chandler. It's the same routine. I pull myself up and stand on the bottom bunk, my barefeet digging into the snowflake sheets, my one arm hanging on the metal guard rail while I peek over to see if he's sleeping. I take the Elmo pillow case covered pillow off his sweaty blonde head.  I pull up the fleece covers with beautiful puzzle pieces, I look around the room at the way he "arranges".., the TV making the room glow. Some nights, like tonight...tears roll down my face. He looks so "normal". What would my life be like with a nine year old who likes Transformers or talks incessantly about science class? He breathes in softly as I exhale ragged heavy breaths. I run my fingers through his hair as I hear the Backyardigans singing about cops. He puts movies on to fall asleep. Like me. And sometimes I wonder if I have left him alone too long tonight. I should have been working on words..I should have been working on math...I grieve the child I don't have again tonight, and I walk upstairs and pour a glass of wine. It's sweet and floral. It washes over the taste of sadness that is salty tears. I love the son I have. I love so many things about him. But I have my nights to hurt. Tomorrow will be a different day.