11/52 | The dawn

When he wakes early on those few occasions, he does not wake well.

My little big man, rising for mumma, savoring his time with her, every moment he can get.

It starts with a sound, ever familiar it grows, reminding me it's time to rise. Each morning passing, each morning I discover my momentum grows steady, my feet hit the floor. It is dark. I stretch, I reach and I fumble as I climb from my bed and softly make my way though the dark, the hard floors beneath me eager to announce to the world my arrival to the day. I tip toe with gentle breaths, struggling to slide their bedroom door to a close. Most mornings I fail. His ears are cued for my waking. His sleep washed eyes, peep around the door and I know, it is over, the game was lost this morning. He is awake, my small boy, my big boy. He has grown so very much these last weeks. I see the young many beginning to shape. I see parts of him, adjust in a way I had not anticipated and quite frankly not given him credit for. I reach out my mumma arms, his safe place. He hold me and I hold him back and suddenly I find myself selfishly satiated that he is awake now, in this early morn, when the sun has not yet risen I am happy, am whole. I sweep him up and kiss his cheek, carry him to the lounge where our ‘routine’ begins with him snuggly and warm, remote in hand. I sing out to him at random ‘I love you’, and his reply never fails. I am happy. I am whole. The morning quickly buzzes to action, in the darkness of the day, still new from it’s birth. I ready myself for another day at work, torn with guilt and proud of the role model and provider I have fought to become. As the morning endures and the world awakens, the shaded grey sky announcing dawn, I make my way to their bedroom, I kiss my little babe in that part of his neck, you know the part. The part all mummas devour with relish. He hugs his cheek to mine and for a bliss-ed moment I am happy, I am whole. I leave him be, my little sleeper. He will rise late, this much I know. I make my way for one last hug with my other little man. His heavy eyes fight his desire to see me off. I tell him I love him, I tell him I wish mummy could stay too…

I close the door behind me, my little world separated by a slither of timber. And for a moment I am sad, I am lost.

Joining in with Jodie and The 52 Project