Today’s flash fiction prompt: Write about a lazy weekend morning. I don’t get too many of these, but I gave it a shot!
Leaning In
Tiny fingers peel back the lids covering my eyes. Sunlight drips in, and I tuck my face in my pillow.
“Mommy, are you awake?” Before I can answer, “Can you feed me?”.
“Ask Daddy.” The words tumble out rough, like rocks scraping earth on the way down a cliff’s edge. Her reply?
“Daddy’s sleeping.”
Eyes half-open and limbs still shaking awake, I stumble out of bed and into just one slipper. The other one is missing? My feet shuffle along the cold floor in protest, but all it takes is three minutes to satisfy the tiny-faced human with big, brown eyes. One to heat the oatmeal, one to cool it down. Let’s not forget the one full minute used to pick between brown sugar or cinnamon spice. Milk, butter, done.
She smiles and asks me, “Can I tell you about my dream?”
And, on some Saturdays, I haven’t got time to lean into the nuance of her fancies, but today there are no appointments. No deadlines, no meetings to rush to, no errands to this place or that. No tasks crowding out the space in my head. No reason to put her on the clock and limit her to two or three precious minutes of my time. Just her, me, and the quiet hum of the ceiling fan.
So, I rub the sleep from my eyes and meet hers with a grin of my own. My reply?
“Absolutely.”
Be First to Comment