Can you hear it?

I creep in there each night. I check to be sure they are the proper temperature--that their blankets are where they should be. I find a spare pacifier and put it on DQ's pillow so that I don't have to wake at 2:00 am when she can't find one. I place gentle kisses on each of their foreheads and whisper "I love you" in their ears. I try very hard not to pick them up and hug them tight, so I don't wake them.

Then I listen. I stand in the middle of the room and  listen.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Da dum. Thump. Thump. Thump. Da dum. Thump. Thump. Thump. Da dum.

There it is: the gentle sway of the Dancing Queen's heart beating its own little groove.

I can hear it now in my head as I type this.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Da dum. Thump. Thump. Thump. Da dum. Thump. Thump. Thump. Da dum.

It's like a dance tune. 110 beats per minute, measured out in perfect rhythm.

And it's always the same . . . until it isn't.

The Dancing Queen's birthday was a complete success. She had the time of her life. But, at the end of the day, her poor little heart and lungs couldn't keep up.

The rhythm is faster now; the breathing harder, making it more difficult to hear.

I guess I should be happy that I can hear the tune at all. And most days I am. But, today, I'm just scared.