Dec 29, 2009 09:01
I know, two posts in one day, how tacky. But I have really been missing this, and I know that every moment I have to type is a moment of grace before Rose wakes to nurse. Typing with one hand is too slow and frustrating to be any sort of relief.
She's wrapped up beside my bed, sleeping in her bouncy-chair. Phil is curled at my side, his knee against my thigh. I wish I could take a picture of a moment.
The sun is streaming through our window, a pattern of bright lines on the wall. It illuminates a print of soft pink roses we had removed from a frame. The roses are on our mantle beside the rich brown wooden poster of Gandalf and Gollum, sharp lines and contrast. Glinting beneath the poster, a cheap gold-framed collage of my father. I love the cheap gold frame, he would have called it ridiculous to spend money on something as inconsequential as a picture frame.
Rose is stirring now, making her little grunting/half crying sounds. Oh, she's quiet again, but definitely waking up, smacking her lips and giving voice to small protests between seconds of sleep.
Time to go.