Early Mornings

I woke up this morning and laid still for a while, listening to the boy breathing gently beside me. I turned my head to look at him and he must have sensed that I'd woken up because he rolled over and put his arm over me and dragged me towards him. The most perfect time of the day; the boy is quiet and still and I'm cuddling him.

But I need to go and put the bins out before 7am so I pull back the duvet trying to leave the boy covered up. He sleepily asks if I would like any help, but he doesn't look as if wants to move so I decline and go downstairs.

The bins are out and everything is quiet, a rare thing in my terraced house. I like being able to hear the dulled conversations, the music and the sound of other people's washing machines through the walls. It's comforting to know that other people are living their lives, just like I am. And, on the rare occassion there isn't any noise, it's a treat. I'm tempted to sit downstairs with a coffee and a book and enjoy the peace, but instead, I walk back upstairs, pull back the duvet and climb into bed behind the boy. He turnes over and kisses me and I'm glad I didn't stay in the quiet cold downstairs.

However, early morning activites with the boy mean I have a speedy shower, most of it under the watchful eye of the boy who also needs shower before work. No time to chose an outfit today so grab jeans, t-shirt. We say goodbye at the bottom of the stairs and I don't want to go to work. I want to get into the car with the boy and walk along a beach and watch people over coffee, then stop for a beer and chat and laugh.

It's not often I feel like this though. Recently, there hasn't been enough time to even feel like I'm alive, let alone enjoy life. I pick up by bag and set off for work dashing into Cafe Nero's for a take away breakfast.