It’s my day off.
I’m laying in bed, alone, slowly and casually shaking off the lingering dust of sleep and making my way toward full consciousness. I’m in no hurry to get up. Other days require swifter action and demand immediate attention. But this isn’t one of those days. Today is made for relaxation, for recharging the batteries.
As I lay there, I hear the soft sounds of little feet on the carpet. Through the bedroom door strolls my 8-year old daughter, still in her pajamas. She’s here for one reason and one reason only. She wants to be close to her Daddy. And she knows from experience that this is one of the best times to snuggle. She knows I’m going to take my time getting out of bed.
She crawls up onto the bed and curls up next to me, her head under my arm. I don’t say anything because I’m really self-conscious about morning breath and I don’t want her to run out of the room. For a moment, no words are spoken. We just lay there together, snuggled up in tender and perfect connection.
