Her smile rises before her eyelids have even opened. She feels the warmth of the new day filtering through the blinds and hears the melodic birds in the garden. Stretching out her arms, and letting out an involuntary sigh of peaceful happiness, she reaches over to her mother’s warm body. She’s there.
Eyes bright and clear, sparkle with excitement at the new day. She knows her mother is still asleep. The restorative magic of sleep is never quite the same on her mother’s body as it is on her own young limbs and unlined face. Her mother lies still, willing the night to stay a little longer, vaguely aware of movement and wakefulness in the room. She feels her daughter’s small, warm, body nuzzle into her breast. A smile of defeat and surrender warms her own cheeks. Her eyes open for a moment, not able to resist a glance at her child, never mind how tired she feels. Her glance is met with an all encompassing love. A love that shines out from the very depths of the soul. Dazzling in its brightness, fueled with the power of the Universe.
Energy, shifting like desert sands, invisibly draws these two beings together. Give and take. But when both beings draw on the energy of the Universe, and don’t take from the other, it is in its strongest, most purest, powerful form.
‘Open the blinds Mummy!’ she says. Each morning is the same. The same for the mother; responding in tired, robotic motion to the unstoppable enthusiasm of her child. Different for the child. The blinds rising up to welcome in the new day are a promise of new discoveries. The mother, ignoring her aching limbs and groggy head, stops for a moment to revel in the look of joy and wonder on her child’s face.
Eyes so wide, drinking in every detail of the world outside the window. The colour of the sky, the clouds present or not, drifting in the wind, or holding steady high in the stratosphere. The leaves on the trees, green with promise. The birds flitting past the window searching for their breakfast. And then the child remembers her own needs. Breakfast. The day begins. Excited feet, stand with a sea of energy. Barely able to contain every cell in her body. Dancing steps down the stairs. So much to do… but no cares in the world. Watching her energy is better than any alarm clock in the world. Motherhood. Tiredness often all consuming, but bolstered by the fuel of youth flitting around a body warmed by the gift of life.
“Each day is a gift, that’s why we call it the present.”