deep in the furrow
of my bed
my child-self
longed to stay in its warm
haven
but
the voice calling up
from the bottom of the
stairs
would not be dissuaded
no detouring
the rigours of academia
this morning
that imposing early-to-rise
school schedule…
before I left that
contented place
though
I remember planning
to jump back into bed
the minute I returned from
school
of course, time does assuage
such desires
and by that afternoon
bed was the last place
I wished to be…
flash forward
some thirty-seven odd years
my son, Joseph, has just climbed on to
the school bus
at an oh-so-early hour
we are on summer schedule
but spring has not yet caught up
and mornings are dark and cold
I face an unusual possibility now
this many years later
I, on this particular
morning,
have no pressing schedule
no time line
in the immediate
conforms me
I lay down in that space
I had so recently left
with 22-month old Paul
in my arms
early morning light shines through
the slats in the blinds
I relax and surrender
joyously
into the supine
complete rest
so sought by skin, muscles and
bones
and my mind drifting into that
estate
of the tranquil
the early morning sleep…
I rise close to nine
Paul has been up
for a while
and I remember that time
long ago
it had been worth
the wait