Birds are singing.

The breeze is blowing the curtains gently. Sunlight filtering through, just touching the edge of the bed.

I didn’t mean to drift off.

Little bodies, breathing with ease, curled in each arm.

I inhale the familiar scent of them, my babies.

I watch their little chests rise and fall.

There is a sink full of dishes, toys on the floor, and piles of laundry.

But I lie back onto my pillow.

Baby breath on my cheeks is more pressing.