A August Ordinary Day
I woke to a baby nestled into me. Nursing at the breast. Restless. Ready to greet the new day. I look down at him, the same as every morning. A smile. Wide eyes. The brightest smile I’ve ever seen. And it was to me. His mama. And my heart couldn’t be more full with warmth. Even after a restless night. Like the night before. And the night before that. Actually, every night for the last seven months. And probably before that, while the little one was tucked safely underneath my heart. But I don’t mind, because you are mine. And I am yours. And there is warm coffee and cream waiting for me. My favorite mug. And plenty of future naps. I steal a few quiet moments to listen to you babble before we leave the comfort of our bed. The sweetest little voice. Then we begin our journey down the stairs. Stepping over sleeping dogs stretched along the hallway floor. The house is still. Dad...