The house is quiet; all is still. If you listen carefully, you can hear peaceful breathing with an occasional rustle of bedclothes. Perhaps you might spy a fuzzy-stockinged foot peeking out from beneath the covers. The rooms are dim, curtains drawn. No sibling squabbles, no blaring television or music on, peace reigns.
Oh, did I mention that it is past noon?
I do remember when I could sweetly slumber into the afternoon myself, but it has been many years. Nowadays if I sleep too late I feel worse than if I had just gotten up. A teenager has many abilities that I are long-lost for me; the unfettered ability to sleep in is just one of them. I’m not sure whether I miss it or not. On one hand, the luxury of stretching and just going back to sleep with no cares or worries or schedule appeals to me. On the other, you miss half your day, and I have grown fond of having the time.
I do know that I didn’t fully appreciate the opportunity when I had it. I remember feeling that it was more of a right than a privilege; the lawful domain of a teen. As an adult, mornings roll around all too soon on a regular basis, getting everybody up and ready for school. Holidays are a timeout for my kids, sleeping in whenever they can, and they are a bit of a respite for me too. Mornings are blessedly quiet when I get up early, and I have a few hours of time to get things done before I have to worry about schedule and kids.
I’ve had breakfast, run the dishes, done some laundry, made my shopping list, and taken the time to do a little writing. It’s been a very peaceful morning, so why can’t I shake the feeling that there is something missing? Maybe I should go wake them up…