Something woke me, yet I came out of sleep gently, nothing like the stridency of a middle of the night telephone call. I lay in bed a few moments listening. Martin’s regular breathing and the weight of the dog near my feet assured me that nothing serious was amiss. Whatever had roused me had not disturbed their sleep.I looked at the dim red numerals on the face of the clock. 2:23 it read. All was quiet now except for the rustle of the wind in the trees. I settled more deeply into my pillow, my head too heavy to hold up any longer, ready to drift back to sleep.
What was that? A muffled voice. Was one of the children up? The room’s cool air touched my skin as I reached for my warm fleece bathrobe. Suddenly awake I slid my feet into my moccasins and slipped out of the room, pausing only to quietly close the door behind me.
A faint glimmer led me to the kitchen. I paused at the door to watch. Megan was hard at work with only the dim light on the range to see by. I marked her concentration; the tip of her tongue protruding from her lips betrayed her focus as she peered at the directions for the bread machine. Her blonde hair glowed as it was caught in the light. She looked like an angel in a bathrobe.
Should I speak? Not, it would only startle her and ruin her surprise. Silently I stole back to bed and to my dreams.
As the early morning sunlight snuck around the edges of the window shade, the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread and cinnamon woke me gently once again. Soon I knew Megan would wake her brother and they would bring me breakfast in bed. It wasn’t even my birthday.
© 29 March 2003 Carol E. Burris All rights reserved worldwide.