mornings

The air in our room was chilly and very still, which complimented my warm bed perfectly. I was awake but unwilling to move. I was so comfy. Jon was breathing steadily next to me, putting me in a trance. He started to stir, shifting his pillow and rolling over and then he was still again. The sun was beginning to peak through the curtains and I couldn't help but feel annoyed. It was too soon for morning; too soon for hustle and bustle and obligations. The need to not be anywhere or do anything was nice. Very nice. And I knew that that moment wouldn't last long.

I heard little footsteps, my door opened, the light flip on and then off, and the footsteps returned to their corner of the house. I waited. They are so predictable. A few minutes later, those little feet stopped on the side of the bed. Morgan, her hair knotted in the back, her yellow flung over her shoulder, crawled into bed and snuggled in between Jon and me. Her head was next to Jon's, pushing him off his pillow. His arm overlapped her belly from one side and mine wrapped around her from the other. I recalled something my grandma said about always feeling safe in her parent's bed and I hoped we could we always be a safe haven for her.

All was quiet and still. We refused to open our eyes or move in the slightest. Content is the best word to describe us. Well, almost. In came Reagan and without so much as a word, she pushed me over, crawled into the covers on the side of the bed and snuggled into my back, flinging her pink and white blanket over her. Now we were content.

And we laid there for a long time. All of us in our bed, fitting perfectly together like a puzzle. And I thought about how we were a family and how our picture isn't complete without each puzzle piece fitted together. Maybe our puzzle is complete. Hopefully it isn't. But the picture it forms right now is beautiful and I am very happy.