It’s morning. I know by the light coming around the window shade in soft waves, somehow getting beyond my eyelids, squeezed shut.
It’s morning. I know by the weight shifting beside me, Sweetie sitting up, reaching for his T-shirt discarded in the night.
It’s morning. I know by the sounds of the birds. I wish I knew exactly what kind of birds.
It’s morning. I know because my mind is more awake than I wish it would be. Full of all there is to do.
It’s morning. And soon I must get up from my bed and start the day.
But first I will lie with the covers pulled up and listen to more of the morning sounds:
The television in the other room, a recap of last night’s Celtics game.
The padded steps of my son trying to come downstairs quietly.
The coffee grinder in the kitchen.
The refrigerator opening and shutting.
Juice filling a plastic cup.
The back door squeaking on it’s old hinges.
Footsteps on the deck.
The squeaking hinges again.
A newspaper being slid out of its plastic bag.
Air being blown, heaved almost, into the bag.
A burst of shredded plastic, air released.
The cushions of the couch, strained from children’s jumps, as my two boys settle in together.
It’s morning. A new day before us all. Beginning slowly. Predictably.
I lie.
I listen.
I wait.
And then…
“Mommmmm-yyyyyyy!”
And I rise, reach for my glasses and take in the day with my eyes.
___________
It’s morning. Just Write with Heather.
Read More in home, Jen Writes, three kids, writing
I saw a double rainbow the other day. It rose above us on the soccer sidelines. Many parents took out their phones and their cameras and snapped pictures of the magical moment. I kind of just stared at the sky, moving my head left to right and right to left like I was watching a tennis match. And I laughed this oh-so-free laugh, like nothing could touch me in that moment.
