In the mornings, I walk through the house and pull open the blinds, tie back the curtains and let in the light. I fill the kettle and set it on the stove, in a sweeping motion barely recognized as a motion at all. We stumble into the rooms without beds and they tell me that they had a good nap. Yes, good morning mama, I had a good nap. And it never fails to spread a smile on my face, I don’t even think about correcting them.
Today, he climbed into my lap as I sat in the yellow chair next to the window and he squinted at the sun. The sun is so bright, good morning sunset. I corrected him with sunrise, and regretted it immediately. After all, he’s right isn’t he? Good morning sunset that makes the snow a glittery blanket of white for now and later will paint the wintry sky before dinner.
And sure there is the rather overwhelming list of needs and requests that these wild things need, a steady downpour of mama, mama, mama, breakfast, so much breakfast, because, of course, they hardly ate their dinner. So, I fill their bowls and they fill their bellies, sharing half with the floor, while making sure the day starts will plenty of noise. Perhaps one day she’ll understand that 10 baby dolls can’t fit in the high chair with her and he’ll learn to eat cheerios at a slightly slower… more human speed. (probably not).
Not every part of everything is warm and glorious in life.
But, the sun is mesmerizing as it rises higher and higher in the sky on this quiet morning at home, after a week of being gone. A foamy latte is in my resting in my hands.
It’s good to be home.
Good morning sunset.