I couldn’t sleep last night.
I couldn’t even pinpoint why. I was just, completely, wide awake.
When I finally gave up trying, I crawled from bed and began my morning routine- to which I now do without any trouble at all.
I washed my face.
I poured a cup of coffee.
As a special, first day of school, treat- I put cinnamon rolls in the oven to rise, before baking.
I read for awhile.
When it was time, my family began bustling and moving about.
We ate breakfast.
I watched Genny, my baby, put together the clothing ensemble she’s been stressing about for weeks.
She flat ironed her hair.
She donned blue eye shadow and a pale pink lip gloss.
She grabbed her lunch money, her back pack and hopped in the car.
Nervously, 7 minutes later, she finally took a deep breath and climbed down to the pavement.
You’ll have such a great day, I assured.
I hope so, she sighed– obviously unsure suddenly.
She ascended up the steps as I backed from my parking space.
She stopped and turned, waving at me, she blew a kiss and mouthed “I love you.”
It was not until that moment that I even felt like I wanted to cry- and by the time I realized it the tears were hot upon my cheek.
It is this part of the routine I don’t know.
The house quiet part.
The time on my hands part.
This might take some time…