The baby finally rolled over into his "I'm really asleep" position. I closed the door softly, whisked kisses on the older kids, and out the door you and I ran, breathing loud "thank you's" to the babysitter. "Call if you need anything!" (But really, please don't!)
We scarfed down some appetizers, called it a meal, and made it to the movie in time. The theater (gasp! Remember those?) was nearly empty. We found ourseats and grasped our hands. And for a moment, we remembered. Life before all this. Just the two of us. Before caked on crumbs coated the table. Before sleep was a luxury and not a human right. Before we had found ourselves and known our dreams.
But now we're in the thick of it all. Here it's messy and loud and exhausting. And it's also quite glorious.
There's the son who is itching to open your presents, the daughter who is drooling proud over your birthday cake, and the baby who sits chummy in your lap. And as you all huff and puff the candles out, I burst with the love of the here and now.
Writing for five minutes, unedited on the writing prompt "Here" with Five-Minute Fridays