Because Mom is always the first one with her eyes open (whether it's hours or minutes before the house will be awake) she relishes a moment where her thoughts are the only sounds in her head. But as her vision adapts to the darkness, reality surrounds her just as it did before she dreamt and in her stolen moment, she rolls onto her back and slides an arm across her brow to think:
Can I really do this again?
That's all she gets before the door interrupts the silence with a creaky groan, and Mom turns to watch a dark and lumpy apparition toddle to the bedside--blanket rags tucked under a nose buried behind sleep disheveled hair. The shadow clambers onto the mattress and claims her territory with the words:
"I have a bad dream."
The child's tiny bump nestles and kneads itself over Mom's womb, and a sigh escapes before daughter drifts into comforted sleep.
Mom reaches to wrap her fingers around the soft skin stretched over pudgy toes, and a smile escapes as she closes her eyes before another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment