Between Bruises & Blooms

At 12:10 in the afternoon, the world had already lived half a day.

Coffee had gone cold. The dogs had been fed. Sunlight had climbed to the middle of the sky.

And then—

your eyes opened.

As if morning had been waiting for your permission.

You blinked at me with cheeks still warm from sleep, babbling stories only babies know how to tell, while your sister dreamed on, wrapped in the soft hush of another hour.

No rushing. No crying. Just tiny conversations spoken into the quiet, your fingers curled around mine as though twelve o’clock was the perfect time to begin a brand new day.

Perhaps you understand something the rest of us forget—

that mornings do not belong to clocks.

They belong to the first smile. The first cuddle. The first sleepy hello.

Today, morning arrived at 12:10, wearing your sleepy eyes and your gentle little voice.

And somehow, it was right on time. 💛