I Am Happy

The alarm goes off and I gently silence it. I’ve been awake for almost an hour now, waiting for the sound that tells me it is time. I feel him get up and make his way to the bathroom. Bright light turns on as the door closes.

I quietly pull my pants, shirt, and slippers on and slowly make my way to the kitchen. I turn on the hood fan light so as not to blind myself, and I start my morning. It’s a routine I know so well now that I don’t even have to think; my body just moves rhythmically, like a dance I’ve mastered. I feel a smile creep up onto my lips. I am happy. This is exactly where I want to be, and I am happy.

My heart flutters and I feel my skin prickle. I carry on with packing lunches, making breakfast, French toast for her, fried egg and bagel for him, maybe a side of fresh strawberries this morning—she loves them.

I hear the shower turn off, start the coffee machine, and then place his coffee, banana, iPad, and glasses on the breakfast bar. I place her water and multivitamins, make her a small coffee (Is she too young for coffee? I wonder), and then I feel his arms around me as he kisses the back of my neck. I hear the familiar crack of the bar stool as she plops down on it, eyes half open, groaning at the thought of being up.

I give her her plate and she semi-smiles. French toast—it’s her favorite. “Thanks, Mom,” she mumbles. I place his breakfast in front of him. “No French toast?” he says. I smile and shake my head. “You don’t even like French toast,” she reminds him. He winks at me. I am happy. I am so happy.

She heads to the sofa for her after-breakfast 15-minute nap before getting ready for school, and I start the dishes. I finish right in time for her to get dressed, “Mom, what should I wear?” she asks, as she drags herself to her room. “Be right there,” I say, making a coffee and taking it to her room.

She’s lying in her bed now, as mornings are not her thing. I smile. I am happy. We decide on an outfit, and I coax her to get moving. She’s now getting dressed, and the pups are out of their crates looking for water, food, and affection. She picks Blue up, hugs him tight, and then places him on her bed. She finishes getting ready, and we head off to the train station. School bag, gym bag, lunch bag, tram pass, house keys—yes, we have everything. I smile. I am happy.

It’s a cold morning, and can see our breath as we speak. She holds out her elbow for me to link in my arm and I accept it willingly. We huddle a little closer, trying to create some warmth. He’s walking a few steps behind us, carrying some of her bags. With every step we take, she becomes more and more awake, chatty, and full of life.

The cold has done its job—by the time we get to the train station, she will be completely alive. “I just don’t get it, Mom—how do you get Bill from William or Dick from Richard?” she asks. “I don’t know kiddo, you just do,” I respond with a smile as he snickers in the background. I look back at him, smiling. I am happy, he is happy, she is happy.

We see her off on her train heading to school. I see him off on his train heading to work, and I start my walk back home. As I walk, I smile, thanking the universe for finally giving me what I’ve prayed for, for so many years. At home, I am greeted by the pups, still looking for affection. I rub their little bellies, make my way to my desk, turn on my computer to work on my writing, and smile. I am happy.