Today – the first official weekday of daylight savings time, we all took a nap.
Unintended of course. It was close to 4pm in the afternoon and past the cut off time for my hopes of the toddler napping for the day. Rambo had called in sick from work and was laying around while I nursed the baby. The toddler climbed into the bed between us and was physically re-enacting the Angry Birds game.
Then, a phone call jolted me awake. It was 5:30pm.
I looked at my sleeping family. All four of us cuddled together in the King size bed with the windows open and the fan whirring above. And at that exact moment I was.
So. Blissfully. Happy.
I felt like Beatrix Kiddo in that last scene in Kill Bill Vol.2 where she lay on the bathroom floor crying/laughing tears of happiness.
Me today, but on a bed.
I don’t know why the last four and a half years have felt like I was fighting a battle. Or why I couldn’t bloom where I was planted. I wanted so desperately for everything to work out, for my mind to simply accept the circumstances.
But my stubborn heart can’t settle.
So here I am almost five years later. I smell like baby spit up. I’m happy. I’m home.
And I’m so fucking grateful.
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