The alarm goes off that infernal noise, raising me from the depths of sleep. Why is it that the last few hours are the deepest of the night, away in the land of dreams?
Hitting the snooze button I cherish those extra five minutes before I tumble out of bed.
Slippers on I enter the next bedroom, tender snores greet me from the bunk beds. I stand there for a minute and watch them sleep, so different yet so alike.
I start with gentle rousing to no avail, so my pushes got bigger and my voice louder. I finally raised them out of bed, two down and two to go.
My eldest’s room is shut down tight, privacy so important at her age. I hear her alarm playing the latest morning tunes but still she sleeps on. Threats of lateness finally move her behind, moaning and grumbling as she goes. “Why does school have to be so early”? Fighting my way past discarded makeup and straighter’s I leave her room. Three down one to go!
I walk down the stairs to the lower bedroom; I stop and run my fingers over the nameplate on the door. Three years ago the letters were different, all pink and sparklely spelling out my beautiful young angels name. I smile at the memory.
Then I hear the giggle from inside the room, the young man whose name the letters now spell is awake and ready to face the day. Such a gift wrapped up in hugs and giggles.
Life has been a collection.
Children have completed my heart inch and inch.
My mind full of memories of what has been.
My heart full of excitement of what will be.
I collect children; children have collection of my heart.
*This post was written to join in with Josie at Sleep is for the Weak and her writing workshop.