Tonight, her hands cradled my jaw, wrapping around the curve of face to chin, of above to below, as we lay facing each other on the bed. The darkness was winding around us, but she was still wound up. “What do you need to do to go to sleep?” I asked, as she continued chanting songs and nursery rhymes, eyes wide open.

“Close eyes,” she said. And she did. I wrapped an arm around her. Her hands remained on my face. Her breathing slowed and her eyelids stopped fluttering.

My arm cradled her, warm and solid and gentle, but she’s the one who completed a circuit as she fell asleep, with innocence and trust sparking through her fingers like a downed power line and jolting through me, a conductor of love, a conductor of dreams.