I linger in bed this morning.
I love the scent of fresh-laundered sheets, but more? I love the scent of the one who was just here. I move over into Mark’s side of the bed to wrap myself up in the memory of him . . . breathe deeply.
Love that.
I drift in and out of consciousness as the memory of Mark plays in the air about me.
This is my favorite part of the morning . . . the not quite facing it part.
I inhale again. Deeply.
No one tells you how love will change the air you breathe.
Sigh.
Mark is out of the shower now, getting dressed, brushing his teeth.
Impatient with me.
“Come on, babe. Get up.”
I pull the covers under my chin, close my eyes, and ignore him.
I hear him talking to Kallan, sending her in to pester me.
Annoying.
Kallan comes to stand by the edge of the bed, “Daddy said for you to get up. He told me to tell you to get up.”
I reach an arm out to caress her cheek. Sweep her hair from her face with my finger. Stare into her serious blue eyes. She is so beautiful. My breath catches in my throat at the thought this girl is of me.
Me.
I pull her to me, and she lifts herself up and into the bed. Her much smaller body fits perfectly within the curve of mine. I tighten that curve, reach an arm around her to pull the nape of her neck to my face. Her hair falls against my face as I inhale.
The scent of her . . . of earth and strawberries, of toothpaste and pine needles, of sleep and electricity.
I want to breathe this air forever.
Mark appears, “Oh for god’s sake! I sent Kallan in to get you out of bed! Now you’ve both gone back to sleep?”
I giggle into Kallan’s neck, feel the shake of her giggles against my body as I speak, “Go away, Daddy. Kallan needed a little more sleep. I am just being a good mom here. I would have gotten up, but Kallan needed me.”
And Kallan pushes back into me happily. All giggly. I pull her tighter. Breathe her in.
Mark is annoyed, “Fine. I’m going to eat breakfast.”
And the spell is broken. Kallan pushes hard arms and feet against me as she launches herself out of bed and after Mark, “Wait! I’m hungry! I want to help make breakfast!”
And I am left alone, staring at the ceiling.
Alone with the scented air of my husband and younger daughter.
No one tells you how love changes the air you breathe.
I get out of bed and pull on my robe, head down the hallway to see if Maj is awake.
She is not, but she opens her eyes as I walk into her room. She groans.
I reach down to smooth her forehead, give her a kiss, “Time to get up, babe. Kallan and Daddy are already doing breakfast stuff.”
She groans again and turns away from me, pulls the covers up under her chin and closes her eyes tightly, “I don’t want to wake up yet. Leave me alone.”
Instead, I climb in next to her and pull her close. She is not as malleable as Kallan, even in sleep, and I have to work to fit myself around her. My older daughter is not so easily made into my form.
She moans in sleepy protest.
I press my face into her long hair, into her neck, and breathe deeply.
The scent of her . . . of sweat and sleep and saliva, of moss and shadows, of a storm about to break.
I want to breathe this air forever.
But Maj suddenly rolls away from me and out of bed. One quick harsh movement and she is apart. Standing.
She is awesomely beautiful. Like her sister and yet so very very not her sister. Maj is of me.
Me.
She turns and leaves the room.
And I press my face into her pillow for a moment, breathe in the one who was just here.
Me.
No one tells you how love changes the air you breathe.
I walk to the top of the stairs and listen for a moment to the sounds of my family on the floor below. My family.
I take a deep breath.
Changed air.
I join them.
awe! this was so sweet! time goes by so quick doesn’t it!?! kids grow to fast!!
Thank you.
And time?
It races.
Awesomely beautiful. I can totally relate. My fav so far!!
Thank you so much.
I like this one as well.
Oh, Kris. This was so beautiful. It’s hard to write about love and get it just right, to capture the depth and breadth of the feeling while not getting too mushy or florid. And you my dear have done it here. In spades.
I don’t think anyone who is not a parent can come close to understanding what it feels like to love a child with tenderness and astonishment and every fiber of your being. How it truly changes the very air. Thank you.
As much as I write?
I am not often that vulnerable here on Pretty All True.
I like a little distance.
But today?
I am all soft.
I’m glad it worked.
Thank you.
So, so incredibly beautiful.
Made me wonder if my mom ever did that, thought that.
Made me wish there’d been blogs in the 60′s so I’d have something to look back on and read.
One time, my mom wrote me a love letter telling me that I would always be her first born, her baby.
Like Maj, it annoyed me. Like Kallan, I loved it and have it still.
xoS
My mother is an amazing writer, but she has not written of her memories of me as a girl.
She tells me her stories. I love that.
But what a gift it would be to have the words she selected at that moment . . . when she was in love with smallish me.
Sigh.
I hope my words here are a gift to the girls someday.
As they are a gift to me today.
Thank you.
Dear, this made my eyes water.
I love that for you it’s mornings… for me, it’s always at night when I’m holding mine for the last time before I put her in her bed, or when I crawl in under the covers with my husband who always falls asleep before me. I burrow & inhale, feeling genuine & cherished as ever.
Yes.
Exactly like that.
Genuine and cherished.
Yes.
Remember how once I was keeping your images whole on an indrawn breath?
Loath to let them go?
There you go again.
Happy sighs at that thought.
Thank you.
Also (because I’m still thinking about this post here, it is still vibrating in my heart) I love how Kallan smells like electricity and Maj like a storm. How Kallan is pine needles and Maj, moss. You have given us such a visceral description of how they are both of the earth, of you, but so different. Sigh. Love, yeah.
When I choose my words carefully?
When I hope that I am really able to show you who these people are?
And then you see them?
You notice my words and you see my girls?
I am overwhelmed at how much that means to me.
Thank you.
Wait a second! *narrows eyes* Where did your quote section on the side bar go?!
You are all noticey!
I got tired of it.
Took it down.
You miss it?
I have been faithfully reading it since Mark said something about no one reading it. Just to prove him wrong! I am ornery like that.
And you’re post brought back memories of my grandmother. When she died 5 years ago, I sat in her room, sniffing her clothes. Never been able to find her scent again.
Whoops! your post** Darn spelling. I’m not so good at that :P
Ornery you!
Love that.
Scent?
My most powerful sense, I believe. So many of my memories come attached to a sense of the air that I was breathing in that moment.
Your grandmother’s scent is with you. In you. In memory.
It is.
Le sigh.
In a good way.
You are all minimalist with your comments lately.
In a good way.
Yep.
Ha!
Awww!this is all homebaked cookies and warm apple strudle-y
I love the softer side of you :)
But the bawdy side is pretty damned awesome too
Rene
Snort!
I like to mix it up.
Tomorrow!
Porn!
Yay!
Today? I am all cookies and strudle.
Provided I can talk Mark into baking those items for me.
Snort!
This post made me smile. One of those goofy, remind of my daughter little smiles.
Thank you.
Awwww . . . thanks, you.
Damnit! I did not need to come in here and start crying some more. Thanks a ton. Rob’s been gone 6 weeks and he left me his cologne and sometimes when I really miss him I go in and close my eyes and just smell it. I miss him so much.
Oh well. Love you anyways!
Those are happy tears, though!
Of love and memory and anticipation and connection!
You miss him deeply because the love is so very very true.
Those are good tears.
And he will be back soon.
Love.
I love this soft side of you. I could almost hear your voice.
I love knowing that you have a safe cocoon…a place that envelopes you and holds you still.
Thank you for this beautiful reminder of what matters most in this world.
I truly needed this today.
The things that I can smell, touch, and hold are true and lasting.
The other things?
Not so much.
Thank you.
How flattered am I that you took a moment to come visit on this stressful day?
Your blog? It will get fixed.
It will.
For today?
I wrote you a small moment to hold while you wait.
I’m glad you came to see.
Love you.
And I love you.
“No one tells you how love will change the air you breathe.”
How incredibly perfect. Just…perfect.
*happy contented sighs*
Happy contented sighs here for having connected.
That’s just perfect.
You do great justice to written words. Just breath taking…..the “visuals” you leave, or perhaps I should say this time, the “olfactory” memory you leave, render me speechless. I LOVE how you express your heart, your life… your most inner thoughts with us. Much thanks for sharing. You and your words are a gift.
Oh my.
Those are big words.
Thank you!