Rise, Shine...Linger

She's lying right beside me, all snuggled into her Dad's, well, armpit. There are undeniably more glamorous places to find warmth, safety and security.  I'm typing with one hand, a trick I don't recommend to the impatient.  My other arm is wrapped around this oh-so early rising three year old who stumbled, quite literally, out of her room into the 6AM darkness searching meekly for Daddy, her hair matted in front of her half-shut eyes.  Now I don't want to get out of bed.

I can hear the traffic begin to thicken outside our open bedroom window, and somewhere there's a freighter passing, it's long, low horn booming across the lake.  The bus just stopped to pick up tired souls on their way to tired jobs.  I heard it sigh as it opened it's doors and swallowed them whole. My alarm went off a long time ago, but now I have this beautiful little accessory to my morning and lingering is easy.

Every time I think I need this thing or that one, or each time I struggle to carve some sort of boring peace out of this occasionally uneventful rock of a life, I think about little girls snuggling at 6AM and I don't feel so desperate for, well, anything.

I can feel her soft, slow breathing under my arm and I think I'll just be late today.