The dappled sunlight was growing brighter through the thin white cotton curtains, dancing on the powder blue walls of the room. David had already gotten up, leaving me to wake on my own in the silence of the early morning. Both girls appeared beside me, asking to climb into bed.
Saoirse: “Can you you help me?”
Quinn: “I want down. HELP.”
I was on my side, eyes still half-closed, as the girls played beside me on the mattress with the new cars they’d gotten as souvenirs. Saoirse was sprawled against my legs. Quinn sat at my head, her little toes resting against my arms, driving her train in and out of the tunnel she’d made under the sheet. The room was quiet save for the girls’s questions about their cars and the sounds of the wheels rolling over the bedspread. It was 6:45 in the morning, on the fifth day of our vacation. We had nowhere to go in a hurry. Orange juice was waiting for them in the fridge.
The sun grew brighter against the sky blue of the walls, and I closed my eyes again, listening to the sound of my daughters at play beside me. I wasn’t going to disturb this moment for anything.
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