[the_muses_stage] 23 - Otis Redding
all you got to do is know how to love her//you've got to//hold her//squeeze her//never leave her....got to try a little tenderness
Michael leaned over the crib and gently scooped Lizzie into his arms again. He sighed and brought the crying child to his chest, slowly starting to rub her back. "Come on, Lizzie."
He slowly walked out of the nursery and down the hallway towards the living room. The apartment was dark, except for the city lights attempting to stream through the shades over the windows. Everything was quiet, except for his unhappy daughter. He bounced her a bit, the way he had seen Bela do so many times.
"Your mom will be home soon, I promise. So how about we just...calm down and sleep. Hmm?" His suggestion was met with louder cries.
This was still new for him. Sure, he'd been a father for nearly three months, but he had so rarely been left alone with Lizzie. And not at night. Bela was always there to lull the baby to sleep. For whatever reason, Lizzie just wouldn't sleep for her father. Only on those middle of the night moments, when he would carry Lizzie into their room and sit on the bed near Bela, would she go back to sleep for him.
He glanced at the clock, wishing Bela would get back from her meeting. He was all for her working again, but she was better at all of this than he was. By miles. He had been doing this dance with Lizzie for almost two hours. Every time he thought she was out and he set her down, she woke up crying again.
Michael wasn't one to give up though. He kissed Lizzie's soft forehead and walked around the apartment a bit longer. He finally came to a stop in front of the radio and reached out to turn it on. After a moment of searching, he found an Otis Redding song playing across the air. He set the volume low and shifted Lizzie in his arms.
"Sssh," he whispered against her. He started pacing the small area of floor near the radio. After just moments, Lizzie's cries stifled and she sighed. Her small fist grabbed hold of his shirt as only soft whimpers were left in her.
The song circled around them and Michael held his daughter closer, his eyes closing. He started to relax and his head dipped closer to Lizzie's warm little body. He breathed in slowly, inhaling the clean, soft scent of baby, and exhaling.
This was his daughter. This was his life.
He hardly noticed that Lizzie was finally sleeping in his arms. Her fingers were curled loosely against his jaw, and her breathing was deep and slow. He just stood in place, slowly rocking her to the song.
His daughter.
447
Michael leaned over the crib and gently scooped Lizzie into his arms again. He sighed and brought the crying child to his chest, slowly starting to rub her back. "Come on, Lizzie."
He slowly walked out of the nursery and down the hallway towards the living room. The apartment was dark, except for the city lights attempting to stream through the shades over the windows. Everything was quiet, except for his unhappy daughter. He bounced her a bit, the way he had seen Bela do so many times.
"Your mom will be home soon, I promise. So how about we just...calm down and sleep. Hmm?" His suggestion was met with louder cries.
This was still new for him. Sure, he'd been a father for nearly three months, but he had so rarely been left alone with Lizzie. And not at night. Bela was always there to lull the baby to sleep. For whatever reason, Lizzie just wouldn't sleep for her father. Only on those middle of the night moments, when he would carry Lizzie into their room and sit on the bed near Bela, would she go back to sleep for him.
He glanced at the clock, wishing Bela would get back from her meeting. He was all for her working again, but she was better at all of this than he was. By miles. He had been doing this dance with Lizzie for almost two hours. Every time he thought she was out and he set her down, she woke up crying again.
Michael wasn't one to give up though. He kissed Lizzie's soft forehead and walked around the apartment a bit longer. He finally came to a stop in front of the radio and reached out to turn it on. After a moment of searching, he found an Otis Redding song playing across the air. He set the volume low and shifted Lizzie in his arms.
"Sssh," he whispered against her. He started pacing the small area of floor near the radio. After just moments, Lizzie's cries stifled and she sighed. Her small fist grabbed hold of his shirt as only soft whimpers were left in her.
The song circled around them and Michael held his daughter closer, his eyes closing. He started to relax and his head dipped closer to Lizzie's warm little body. He breathed in slowly, inhaling the clean, soft scent of baby, and exhaling.
This was his daughter. This was his life.
He hardly noticed that Lizzie was finally sleeping in his arms. Her fingers were curled loosely against his jaw, and her breathing was deep and slow. He just stood in place, slowly rocking her to the song.
His daughter.
447