Breakfast

I can hear rain falling on the roof, splatting carelessly on the a/c unit outside my bedroom window. It is a messy storm, and it feels wrong. It should be snow. Christmas is looming in our hearts but it seems dimmer with the rain. The lights don't glitter in quite the same way. But even with the rain, my heart feels light. Today I will make bacon, and hot chocolate for the kids. The smell will wake them up and bring them down to me, and I will hold them and kiss them because they are mine.

I toss the covers off, reveling in that first brush of cool air on bare skin before slipping into robe and slippers. But for the rain, the house is quiet, and dark. The stillness in itself is thrilling. Normally at this time, we are all full throttle. Lunches, shoes, breakfast, homework, jackets, racing out the door. But the house is asleep and it is delicious.

Breakfast is everything I want it to be. My children drift in one by one. They snack on bacon, (how many? All of them...), and their eyes pop when I pour the hot chocolate (they're easily pleased). The smells fill us up, and we linger here in a toasty, warm cocoon. This is happiness. If I could bottle it up, I wouldn't for fear it would someday go stale and betray even the memory of this one. perfect. moment.

A few days ago, at my birthday dinner, Isaac told me he loves that I greet him each morning with a hug and a kiss. I cannot tell you how that made me feel, dear reader, because my heart is just too full with it.