Quiet Moments

It’s 7:08 and they’re still not awake.

What does a mom do with her freedom to choose?

Clean up?

Read some more?

Bake muffins?

Or prep?

Savor the moments they have slept in? #blessed

Maybe, perhaps she just sits still.

Quiet.

Remembering before morning routines she was made Girl and Daughter and Sister and Friend and Student and Coworker and Woman. And she was good. And she had ideas and thoughts apart from the home. Excitement that sprawled past the four walls she now keeps. Dreams that preceded the tiny souls she does love in heaps.

With an extra eight minutes she remembers back, to the life she once had that wasn’t so bad.

She wouldn’t go back, no- she’s here for it all. Without regret or remorse. In fact she loves where she’s landed, laundry battles and all.

But sometimes eight minutes is enough to recall the spark of the woman she was before toy trucks and dolls. That spark is still there, an ember at best- a dream that will carry me? When the Littles fly this nest?

I cannot predict what the future will hold. But in eight extra minutes I remember the me of old. And I thank her for getting me right to this spot and for leaving some me that I’ve yet to explore.

Now that they’re up, the moment has passed. And I’m brought to a present I’ll one day, in my mind reach on back.