Almost Awake ...

September 6, 2008

My legs move slowly beneath the blankets. I stop mid-stretch when I realize Patti is snuggled warm against my side. With my cheek against the top of her head, I inhale the heavenly Johnson Baby Powder aroma that mingles with a hint of burped up Similac. I've got to soak her tiny gowns again ... What's the name of that solution? It works so well on stains ...

I hear the cautious click of an outside door closing and struggle to open my eyes. Tony has just made an unauthorized exit. Roy Rogers pistols, one holstered on each hip, are bumping against his knees. Bare feet are stuffed into one-size-too-small boots. (Will next week's budget cover new ones?) Cowboy hat sets squarely on his head. He is wearing no clothes except his undershorts. The Florida sun is kind to a three-year-old who can't be bothered with buttons and zippers.

The school bus is coming ... starting and stopping ... picking up neighborhood children on every corner. Tony is standing in line, waiting his turn to board. I know he is. I must go get him before the driver is forced to carry him to my door again, kicking and fighting ...

Suddenly, I'm awake. The school bus of my dreams is only a garbage truck going about its business. My sleeping infant is once again a business woman in Little Rock. My strong-willed pre-school-age son is a fully clothed furniture salesman in Dallas.

I cherish these moments ... half-way between sleep and wakefulness ... when I am young again.