Between Bruises & Blooms

The house has finally
forgotten how to cry.

Two tiny dreamers have surrendered to sleep at last,

their breathing soft enough to quiet the walls.

Only then does Honey appear—

as if she has been waiting just beyond the edge of exhaustion,

patiently counting every lullaby, every bottle, every whispered, “Almost there.”

She curls against me without asking questions.

Cats never ask why your eyes are heavy.

They simply become the warmth you forgot you needed.

At 3:38 in the morning,

when motherhood finally takes one slow breath,

Honey reminds me

that someone has been waiting to tuck me in, too. 🐾