The rain didn’t stop falling all morning. From the warmth of my bed I listened to it patter, smiling at it’s confident tune that reminded me I had nowhere to be, no one to impress, no deadlines to meet. Nine o’clock turned quickly to eleven o’clock, as I settled deeper into my flannel sheets, pouring through Real Simple magazine. Jonathan put his head right where my elbow met my side. He didn’t move much, besides occasionally stirring as if to remind me he was still there. I softly ran my fingers through his hair.
These are the moments I long for on cold early mornings when a day’s worth of responsibilities loom. These are the waffles for breakfast and hot chocolate in the afternoon days that don’t come often enough. So, when they do, I find myself whispering, “don’t go…don’t go.”
photo credit: ancawonka
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
I am mesmerized. Sounds like the most beautiful of mornings. My memory is good, but in my world quiet mornings don’t exist any more. Waking multiple times a night to feed a baby and then giggling girls jumping into my bed before the sun has shown its face. Someday again. I’ll lay in bed and listen to the rain.
Sounds like my kind of morning….hot chocolate in the afternoons, I know that all to well!
There is nothing quite like the luxury of laziness that accompanies a rainy morning in bed. I love it.