So there is this lovely phenomenon that happened yesterday morning and as I recall it occurred last summer as well. I laid there watching the morning sun come through our red curtains and cast it's glow on my contented baby girl. And then I laid there some more. I noticed that without the alarm clock going off at 6:15 followed by Josh's careful steps over our creaky old wood floors, our light sleeping children did not come bounding out of there rooms demanding sippy cups and Sesame Street. The late setting summer sun and extra evening play time probably helped too. For some reason I am incapable of sleeping in so I stealthily crept out of bed greeted only by unusual quietness, the beautiful orchids from my husband on my kitchen table and the neighbors cat sleeping outside my window. I will gladly sacrifice sleep for a glimpse of solitude. As the morning went on and still my loves slept, I read, sipped my tea, sliced fruit, made pancakes, sang my heart out with Ella Fitzgerald, and felt incredibly happy. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of moments when lost shoes and unfinished laundry, iron-willed children and endless diapers makes me want to lay down and cry but this was not one of the moments. This was about moments like the other day when Juden said,"It's a pretty day!" pause, puzzled stare,"See the clouds moving. See the birdies,I want to ride'em." And moments like Ella's monkey-grip hugs when I first get her up in the morning. My kids were asleep and all was right with the world. As I pondered away with thoughts that were not drowned out with potty needs and hungry tummies I thought of all the things I had once dreamed of doing. I used to dream I'd be an artist or a singer. I thought I'd travel, teach English overseas, be a missionary, change the world, help convert masses. I thought maybe I would end up being an advocate for children through adoption or foster care. I thought about all the things I felt passionate about... they are all still there somewhere in the recesses of my 24/7 mama world. My heart still grows heavy with longing when these issues come up. Maybe and hopefully I'll get to realize some of those dreams, but for that moment in the quiet of my kitchen I basked in complete happiness at the here and now and living a dream just not the one I expected.
2 comments:
oh I love that quiet. It's like a precious gift. As the days turn into years those dreams will not be so far off. These days of lovely conversations with little ones will soon be gone and we'll miss answering questions that are so simple. your thoughts are shared by alot of us.
I've thought so many times that I would try to force that kind of beautiful wake up by getting up early or planning every detail to a "t", but mornings like those are just plain gifts. You can't make them happen. ;) I'm glad you got some respite. Love you.
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