we've got nothing but time.
daisy lives for mornings like this, and it's not only because she has the chance to lay in bed for a bit longer than usual.
matty wakes up with the sun, and she can hear him quietly walking through the apartment as he gets ready, and eight more feet eagerly trailing behind him until he rummages through the cabinet in the pantry to find the bag of dog food. first comes the shower though, and the sound of the running water nearly lulls her back to sleep. sometimes she catches a glimpse of his back as he sifts through the closet to find a shirt to wear and only smiles to herself. but her favorite part is when she can hear his feet cautiously walk into the room next to theirs. there's a low conversation, and then there are two sets of feet. one is much lighter, and doesn't quite understand the concept of not running everywhere they go just yet. they barrel into the bedroom, and soon she can feel a tugging at the edges of the blanket, hear the softest of whimpers when she knows that colby knows his plump little hands can't pull himself up onto the bed.
there's always a break in the middle of matty's morning routine, and that is when he scoops up what they both know is the best thing to have ever happened to them. he kisses her good morning, she pulls him in to steal another, and then he leaves her for an hour or so while he opens the shop. the little ashy blond boy curls into her, and she cuddles him into her chest, holding onto him just as tightly as she did the day they brought him home.
there's a high-pitched shriek when she walks through the front door, followed by tired groan. it's lunch time, as she assumes by the sounds coming from the kitchen, and she can only imagine what the scene looks like just around the corner.
there's spaghetti sauce painted over the cabinets and walls, smeared over the white shirt of matty's that she knew was being worn for the first time, and keeping the loose curls of colby's hair in a stiff mess. noodles are squished to his face, and it's as though he's laughing at the sheer idea of the mess that the tiny terror has created.
he's exhausted and his patience is growing this with the whole idea of feeding the boy, and she can tell that from the tone in his voice. so she takes the bowl of spaghetti from him and hands the spoon off to colby to feed himself. and then she takes a handful of noodles and squishes them against matty's face just as he swoops in to kiss her cheek.
she tells him about the world when they're alone. even when he's fast asleep with the most serene expression she's ever seen, like he's never known trouble. she hopes that he never will. he only needs to know that he's loved, that he has a family that wouldn't dream of ever leaving him behind. tells him about birthdays, holidays, and any day in between. there's a whole world for him to explore, and she tells him about that too. but her favorite thing to tell him about is matty. she weaves her words so carefully, so intricately when she talks about him because they hold as much love as she can muster up.
these are the nights when she's reluctant to put him to bed, when she wants only to sit in the rocking chair next to his crib and cradle him to her shoulder. these are the nights that were difficult once, but were gradually lifted from her. a voice gently calls from the next room over, and that is when she kisses the sleeping boy's forehead and tucks him in, promising him all the same in the morning.
