Happy for right now

Happy for right now

Sometimes when she sleeps, she still snuffles and sighs like a little puppy. Just like she did when she was a baby. She rolls over and her feet find mine, deep under the blankets. The flannelette pyjamas she wears feel soft as she curls against me.

And I watch her sleep; her chest rising and falling with a predictable rhythm that brings me comfort. I know that as soon as it goes out, it will come back in again. Even if I know nothing else. I know that.

She’s getting older now. At some point we really will have to reinforce the rules about her sleeping in her own bed. But for now, her being here is the least of my concerns. If anything, waking up to know she’s right next to me makes sure I sleep soundly.

Surely she’ll make the decision herself. I’m shelving the arguments it, and instead I’ll lie there. Watching and listening as her chest rises and falls.

Her hair is too long now, it desperately needs to be cut, but she won’t allow it. The fringe flops down over her eyes, obscuring her face behind the thick locks. She sweeps it to the side mostly, but sometimes she hides behind it, peering out intently to observe the world from a safe distance.

Her face is changing so fast, yet impossibly slowly; it’s starting to become a teenagers face. Sometimes when I catch her out of the corner of my eye as I’m driving her to school, I don’t recognise her for a second. Just a second though, and then she’ll catch my eye under the fringe.

We’re listening to a podcast series on the way to school each day. Filled with myths and legends, the stories whisk us to other times, other places. Places that may never have really existed, and we can’t really be sure that they ever really happened.

But the soothing tone of the narrator guides us through these often violent, horrific tales of morality, with a touch of sarcasm and a 21st century overlay that helps make it palatable. Even understandable. And certainly entertaining.

At the end of each episode, I wonder where my narrator is, because wouldn’t life be easier if everything we did was narrated for us? Plotted out and read from a script, with the twists neatly tied up and the option to pause or fast forward when it all becomes too much.

Instead of this vague, often overwhelming muddling I tend to find myself doing each day, how amazing would it be if everything was set out for us with a ‘once a upon a time’ and we knew it would all end with a ‘happily ever after’?

But without this (unless anyone is offering to volunteer their services) I have to be content with knowing things like the snuffles and the sighs. And the fact that her chest rises and falls the same way every night. It might not be a happily ever after, but it’s a happy for right now.

That will have to do.

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Comments

  1. Beautiful Renee. And for the record, I think that is happily ever after. x

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