7:00am Saturday Morning

We are sleeping peacefully when our little boy slides into bed, wrapping his legs around mine. Ten minutes later, our daughter comes in, rarin’ to go but needing that little cuddle. There we are as every morning, grown-ups desperately hoping for another quiet five minutes, children wanting to begin the bounce and verve of the day. 

They are pulling the duvet and poking each other and laughing, squealing, and shrieking, and out of the blue Elsa exclaims:

“What do we do, the world is collapsing and stuff?”

“What do you mean collapsing?” I ask.

“You know, all the fish are dying, the plankton, climate change is starting, the polar bears are dying.”  I don’t know quite what her information source is.

I am bleary and really wanting that additional snooze.

“It’s great.  You are lucky,” I somehow stutter, “Your generation gets a chance to be heroes.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Everything’s dying and in danger, you get a chance to try to save things.”

“YaY!!!!!” she shouts, jumping on the bed, laughing, pillow-fighting with little Ned.

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3 Responses to “7:00am Saturday Morning”

  1. Milkweed Says:

    You break my heart. And then you pour me a drop of heart-medicine. Oh, thank you for living and writing and mothering.

  2. Keith Farnish Says:

    I’m going to use that line: thank you.

  3. josh Says:

    yay!

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