Indeed, I thieved this phrase from the blessed minds of the insta-famous @morningslikethese. But my mornings are infused with the sweet enchantments and quiet peace that pervade their curated images.
We wake early, before the sun. Sometimes the clock reads 2:00, sometimes 4:44. It matters not; we perform our washroom duties and cuddle in bed, me half asleep, bean practicing whatever skill he learned the day before, boom curled up in the tightest little ball and A returning bean’s smiles in a daze as the minutes tick away, closer and closer to his departure: all of us waiting until the sun also rises.
Generally we bid A adieu before getting dressed. These days, bean is bundled in layers, for autumn’s arrived with brisk morning breezes. I’ve switched my summer uniform of lulu shorts with cozy sweats, though the camisoles remain. Boomer is gladly leashed, bean is wrapped up in one more layer, held warm against my chest, and we welcome the dawn in a stop and go dance that speaks of nothing really to do and nowhere really to be.
Bean used to fall asleep on these morning wanderings, but he’s begun to stay sleepily awake, seeing all there is to see. When we return home, he snuggles his head into my breast and has a quick snack before drifting off for a post-breakfast nap. I heat my oatmeal on the stove, full paleo guilt upon me, stirring and toppling the oats until warm and soft. Into a bowl it goes, where I drown it in coconut oil and wildflower honey and ceylon cinnamon. While my little ones dream, I spoon the simple pleasure with absentminded gratitude that these mornings are mine.