This morning, a wonderful gift: I got to lie in bed until after 8 while Matt got up to greet our little early-rising sunshine, change her diaper, reheat his coffee leftovers, and play the thousand little interactive games of morning–hug and kiss all of the stuffed animals, bring them in and out of the crib, make snarling noises at and for the plastic jungle animals, pop them in and out of their jungle-swing, prattle wordlessly about everything, say “nyo” a lot (often while meaning “yes”), climb in and out of the rocking chair, open and close the door, and meow at (or about) the cats (real, imagined, or on the pages of her books).
The photo is the bedroom window as I usually only get to see it in passing, when I dart in with the coffee while she’s downstairs crunching Cheerios and gesturing wildly at the cats from her highchair–and on a lucky sunny morning to boot! But it’s really only the secondary attraction. What I can’t show you (or reasonably record through the walls) is my favourite sound in the world: the back and forth of their voices, hers determined, inquisitive, impish, earnest, performative; his gentle, sweetly interested, persistent, attentive, and ever-so loving. I’m almost never in a position to listen in–usually it’s me, and when it’s not, it’s often because they’ve gone out to run errands so I can work (an arrangement I appreciate greatly, but one that affords me no opportunity to eavesdrop on their preciousness!).
Most mornings, Matt sees the physical arrival of the sun’s bright gold, coming up over the ridge and brightening the sky on his ride to work, while I’m in the kitchen, losing my sense of time and space to the tiny games of sharing banana slices and puffed-wheat cereal; by the time I notice it isn’t dark anymore, the living room is flooded with the icy, white light of full day. And most mornings, he misses our footie-pajamaed, toothy-grinned, bright-eyed sunrise, or steps over her in passing a few times before a kiss at the door. Over break, it’s been more that he’s slept through the break of day, and I’ve been up chasing the break of daughter. But today, with their voices ringing cheerfully in my ears, and the gold collecting warmly in the corners of my eyes, I’m the beneficiary of both sunrises, and it’s a lovely, lovely thing.
that rare, random descent 