Wednesday, 12 January 2011
A Good Morning Gift
When I was a little girl, I used to wake up and pretend that there was a present at the foot of my bed. I would lift my head off the pillow and imagine it wrapped in shiny silver paper and tied with an elaborate bow, and I would wriggle my feet under the covers, trying to feel the weight of it against my toes all the while wondering what wonderful gift it could hold.
I'd imagine that the rest of the day was wrapped up inside that box and I'd try to capture the excitement of Christmas morning as I waited to unwrap it.
These days, when I lift my weary head off the pillow, I don't have to imagine a beautifully wrapped box to get me through the day, because I have John's face smiling down at me instead.
I see his eyes twinkling merrily as mine open to greet him, I feel the warm weight of his body as I pull him sideways into my lap, I hear his steady gulps as he latches on for his early morning feed and then I feel his body soften against mine as he slips gently back into sleep.
I circle his little body in my arms and lie with him breathing quietly beside me amid a messy tangle of sheets, and the two of us drift drowsily in and out of sleep in the safety and warmth of one another's love.
And no matter what the day might have in store for me; whether an appointment that I don't want to keep or just an empty expanse of hours that I have no idea how to fill, I know that it will be alright, because I've woken up to find that I've been given the most wonderful present of all.