Short Visit (500Words, Round 3, Day 15, 3/2/18)
She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she wriggled deeper into the couch. She was the only one up in the house and the quiet felt like an extra blanket draped over her. The sun was still getting ready to peek out over the horizon line and the blue light of pre-dawn filled the room. It had taken work to adjust to getting up earlier and earlier to get the alone time she craved, and today she was thankful for her past efforts. She hugged her warm mug of tea and looked at the stairwell.
Everything – everyone – she loved was up there, sleeping peacefully. It felt so right to finally have them all back under one roof, even if it wouldn’t last for long. Her husband was likely filling up their bed with his long arms and legs. Her twins were probably in identical positions in their separate beds. Her oldest would be sound asleep with all but one foot covered up, while her youngest had probably stripped off their pajamas in the middle of the night and had their naked bum up in the air with their knees tucked beneath them. And, finally, her brother was up there, too, though she didn’t know his sleeping habits anymore. Her house was full today.
The hairs on her arm stood up as she traded her mug for a notebook and pen. The heater would start up soon enough, breaking the silence with its forced air. Getting up before the house was warm was part of what she loved about these stolen moments. It felt like the house was sleeping just as much as the rest of them. She was alone without being alone – it was delicious.
Tucked back into her blanket with only her hands and notebook visible, she looked back at the stairwell for a moment before she wrote.
Three Stories of Love
Chosen love. Created love. Inherited love. She had them all at her fingertips. They were hers to nurture or lose.
She blinked and looked back at the words she’d written. She didn’t know exactly where she wanted to go with this one. It felt important to get her thoughts and feelings out of her brain and onto the page.
Thoughts. Feelings. Thoughts are easier to feel. Feelings are easier to think.
Family creates thoughts and feelings. Family creates love and pain. Family Creates.
The creak of an upstairs door told her that her alone time was almost done. She waited to greet her brother, stashing her notebook under one butt cheek. Pulling the blanket closer again helped her feel protected and ready to face him. His slow progress down the stairs made tears spring to her eyes and she dashed them away quickly, not wanting him to see.
“Hey.” His short greeting was music to her ears.
“Hi. You’re up early.” She shifted to face him, taking her feet off the couch. The cold floor sent a shiver through her despite her blanket.
“Must be genetic.” He paused for a moment, then smiled at her.
*This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons real or imagined is unintentional