3am
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At three in the morning, two wide-awake babies and one exhausted mother prove that motherhood does not care what the clock says.
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At three in the morning, survival looks less like magic and more like a chipped mug, vitamins, cold water, and the promise to wake up tomorrow.
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Once the babies finally sleep, Honey claims the quiet hours, curling close as though she has been waiting for exhaustion to make room for her.
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At three in the morning, two wakeful little voices turn a tired house into another place where motherhood refuses to clock out.
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At three in the morning, a candle, black coffee, and forgotten women’s names turn the witching hour into a cathedral.
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At three in the morning, the world goes quiet enough for old houses, moonlight, and sleepless women to remember each other’s names.
Between Bruises & Blooms 