Between Bruises & Blooms

all four of them are finally dreaming,

and the house,
for once,
has stopped asking things of me.

no cups to fill.
no blankets kicked away.
no little voices calling
mom
from somewhere down the hall.

just silence—
soft,
strange,
almost holy.

and me,
with a headache blooming
behind my eyes
like a storm
that waited politely
until everyone else
was safe.

I should sleep.

I know I should.

but there is something sacred
about sitting here
in the aftermath of motherhood,

listening to four small breaths
from four different corners
of the life
I somehow built.

the toys are still scattered.
the dishes can wait.
tomorrow will come hungry
and loud
and needing me again.

but tonight,

for a few quiet minutes,

everyone I love
is tucked beneath this roof,

warm,
breathing,
home.

and maybe
that is enough
to let me close my eyes too.