Words From a Saturday Morning

MY house is still asleep. We had friends over last night – for an event for a business we had long ago written off which has suddenly sprung to life; we welcome it and them and take it as it comes, having no real expectations because we saw how that went last time.

MY two children and my fiancé are all sprawled in the same bed and although it’s only 7:41am this is a late start for them – especially the children who were up until past 10pm with the excitement of the competition we were holding.

I woke and un-entwined myself from between the two toddlers; I cannot say babies because they aren’t anymore but in the same token they always will be to me. I pause in the doorway for a moment, watching them in their sleep, wondering what they are dreaming and thinking just how lucky I really am.

I go to the kitchen, boil the kettle and the loudness of it in a silent house is surprising. While I wait I go and get the Saturday paper intending to read it which is a luxury that is rarely afforded.

The air outside seems pregnant with change. Not just the season. The air feels heavy and something is coming. A different opportunity, a different outlook, a different way of life perhaps. I am being promised lots of things on this last day of winter by the morning air.

I make my coffee, I check my roster, I think about how criminal it is that anyone should work on a weekend. I sit at my dining table in my half painted loungeroom with this deafening quiet coming from the inside of my house. It is so quiet I can hear the birds and the cars on the distant highway.

I look around at my half painted room and wonder what it is all for.

And then I realise – It’s for moments like this. Moment of silence in a loud life, to be able to sit and think and do nothing. To drink my coffee while it’s hot and plan my day with no interruption and no need to hurry. It’s for moments snuggled up on my lounge with my two not-babies, watching a show. It’s even for the moment my littlest wakes up and realises I’m not there and cries out for me.

And then that’s what she does. She’s in a sooky mood and grizzles, asks me for a snugglebunny. As I lay on the lounge with her both on top of me and wrapped around me in some sort of little Koala embrace, the sun comes out of hiding and I think “This one is for you.”

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