Predictability

I like predictability. It's comfortable and warm, like a blanket you've had a little too long... Perhaps the edges are fraying just a bit, the wire stitching has come loose and the stuffing gathers all wrong, but it's the first one you reach for on a cold winter's morning. You wrap yourself in it, smelling it's familiarity, reveling in it's relaxing presence. The soft, smooth feel of the predictable is something I don't have to search very hard for, not yet anyway...

Every morning I wake up with my sleeping baby beside me. Without fail my own world comes into focus a few minutes before consciousness descends upon his. I stare at his sleeping frame, the quiet rise and fall of his chest - this beautiful rhythmic breathing I once watched with dread - now has the capacity to lull me back into the land of dreams. Despite my hope for just five more minutes of sleep those big beautiful peepers look over at me and a beaming smile urges me to remain alert, I have attention to lavish, after all. After a few minutes of gentle rough housing and tickle torture the giggles from my youngest has poured down the stairs and awoken the Toddlers; a tsunami of smiles awaits me.

With my son on my hip I reach their door. They already know I'm there, they stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the knob to turn and for freedom to be gained.
          "Hi Mom", Gabe shouts and Edie echoes him word for word.
          "Hi Guys" , I reply with a smile. I'm quickly thrown off balance, their little bodies collapsing into mine during a fierce bear hug.
          "I missed you, Mom" Gabe states matter of fact. There is no sappy, tearful emotion behind it. It's just that simple. He missed me. Edie once more echoes his sentiment and I bend down and kiss them both while assuring them that I missed them too. After greeting me, they move onto Preston, kissing him and hugging him, and making him laugh with delight. Then it's downstairs for breakfast and the last blissful moments of peace before the days begins.

Light eventually turns to dark and sleep takes my children from me once more. I crawl into bed myself, and wrap myself in a blanket that's a little too worn. I know one day I will have to replace it, and learn to love something new; but for now, I'll enjoy it's familiarity while waiting for the morning to come and with it... the prediction that I was missed.