Bedtime
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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 callingmomfrom somewhere down the hall. just silence—soft,strange,almost holy. and me,with a headache bloomingbehind my eyeslike a stormthat waited politelyuntil everyone elsewas safe. I should sleep. I know I should. but…
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At four in the morning, the babies sleep, the house belongs to silence, and Honey kneads the weight of the night out of a tired lap.
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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 four in the morning, a kitten wages affectionate war on every available finger before curling into the softness she was searching for.
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Goosifer folds her wings, Izzy Bear finds her den, and at last the whole little forest of a household becomes quiet.
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The household’s tiny chaos agent finally sleeps, transforming from Goosifer into a soft little snore wrapped around her mother.
Between Bruises & Blooms 