Any Given Morning


Your eyes still heavy with sleep as a little body, newly rounded with fat rolls, softer than anything you've ever known, starts to wiggle first her hands and feet, then her whole body as she wakes up next to you.

The birds chatter at the squirrels outside the open window as the gentle morning breeze, the first to travel through your windows since October, flows through the room, over the bed, around your heads, slightly warm, slightly cool.  The traffic in the distance buzzes with morning commuters.  Her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth.

You turn to face her as she smiles, sideways and sleepy, her hair fuzzy and slightly sweaty, her eyes not quite open.  Her lips purse and move about as she seeks a breast.

You lift her and pull her to your chest, smelling like baby - sweat and sleep and milk and as you kiss her forehead her saltiness stays on your lips.

PAUSE - savor this moment...

Thirty seconds later, big brother bounces into the room with his three year old energy wearing just his blue monster under-roos, hair sticking up at random angles, loud and jumping on the bed, he smacks you both with a big, hard kiss before leaping over your outstretched legs back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as you bounce along nursing the little one.  You smile.

PAUSE - savor this moment again.  These are the days.

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