Perfect November Moment
It is 11:20am. Baby is five minutes past the two hour mark of her morning nap, which means I am rejuvenated and anticipating her waking up soon.
I hear Christmas music playing on the radio, the quiet hum of the baby monitor, and most importantly, nothing else. It is quiet.
I smell vanilla lotion on my hands. I smell the chocolate-banana-oatmeal muffins that are cooling on the stove.
I still taste the one muffin that I already ate. There are now four pans, minus one muffin, cooling on the stove.
I feel the warmth of the fire on my arms. I’m sitting in my green armchair, which now sits next to the fireplace (it has recently been moved). There is a fire going and my dog is curled up in front of it – as close as she can be. Her head is laying on the brick with her nose mashed up against the screen. I’m content, warm in my soft chair.
I see raindrops on the windows. It is gray out and has been raining heavily all morning. I see the baby’s toys in her toy basket, all picked up off the floor. I see a clean coffee table. I see a clean kitchen, with four muffin pans (minus one muffin) cooling. I see a green light on the baby monitor.
It is a perfect moment in a cold November morning.
And I can’t wait for my baby girl to wake up.