Good Morning

Her children are laughing, but she cannot discern from where the laughter comes. Sleep has a deep hold on her, and she struggles to find the surface, swimming through her subconscious toward the light. The humid jungle of dream, thick and oppressive, closes ranks behind her as soon as she moves, and insects are mercilessly biting her legs. The sun beats down through the canopy of trees, and sweat trickles down her chest as she reaches to scratch away the incessant bugs from her tormented legs…

The laughter comes louder, and she is confused, looking for her children- but closer to the surface now, she suddenly wakes. Huh… wha…she startles and tries to shake the dream clouds from her mind.

She is lying in a bright beam of sunlight, tangled up in her bed-sheets. The heat pours in the open window, her brow already beaded in sweat, and her tangled hair stuck to her cheeks. Her children are laughing at the foot of the bed, and she groans as she lifts her tired head to see their bright apple cheeked smiles. They are beside themselves with giddiness… and her naked legs are covered in Post-It notes.

Crawling from bed, laughing children dancing around her feet, she trudges down the hallway towards her day, a trail of Post-It’s fluttering and falling from her legs like a queen bestowing kisses.

(D.P. at MMW today)

4 thoughts on “Good Morning

  1. I loved this. Sounds like my life. I love the description of the apple-cheeked kids–so ripe you could take a juicy bite, tempting you to relax and enjoy the fruit falling around your feet while your whole soul longs more than anything for just a few more minutes of quiet, of sleep. The tiny twinge of guilt that you don’t welcome those little apples as often or warmly as you should, and the fear that they will rot unappreciated if you don’t grab them while you can . . .

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