I get up this morning, the windows covered with frost and the room decidedly chilly. It’s still dark and a huge part of me would rather go right back to sleep. I have had Kafka dreams all night long of the past, dreams that wake me up and make me wonder about the future.
I’m dreamin’ tonight of a place I love
I stretch. My wrist hurts. I absentmindedly rub my hand over my C-section scar as I always do, feeling the soft weight of the skin above it, the skin that hangs slightly slack and always will do, and the tight line of the scar that cuts across me in a way that will always remind me of that day, that day over a year ago, that changed my life forever.
I take a shower and then tiptoe into the babies’ room to see if they’re awake. I am greeted by two enormous toothy smiles and the outstretching of two pairs of arms waiting for me to pick them up. With a smile and a swirl and a kiss planted firmly on a slightly moist neck, I pick them up and change them and give them fierce cuddles. This is my favorite moment of the day.
Even more then I usually do
I take them both downstairs, warm up bottles, let the dog out, and make coffee all in one precision routine. The babies drink up while I get makeup and work clothes on, and Angus appears on the scene and handles his morning routine activities.
I turn the Christmas tree lights on and watch the babies’ faces light up with interest and joy.
And although I know it’s a long road back
After bottles we play and giggle and I take the babies to nursery. Angus scrapes the frost off the car, making a smiley face in one window and a heart in another. The babies giggle from the back seat and Terry Wogan and BBC2 fill the car. We drive off to nursery, me singing at the top of my lungs. It’s terrible, my singing. The babies don’t judge.
I drop my perfect bundles – snotty noses and all – at the nursery in another precision routine. Nora needs ear drops to deal with yet another double ear infection. Nick needs more teething gel to deal with yet another teething molar. Both babies laugh and hold on to my knees and then turn their attention to their friends and their toys.
I drive to work in the frosty morning, my mind on our home.
I promise you
I park in the employee car parking garage and watch a train scream by, its wheels lit with sparks from the frosty rails. I used to ride those trains to and from the offices in London. I know those trains, I know those routes. I smile, pull my coat tighter, and head into the office that I know and love now.
Christmas Eve will find me
Tonight a warm and cozy night curled up on the couch, babies snoring upstairs, a glass of wine and pointless TV on downstairs. Tomorrow off to East Grinstead for a party with all of Angus’ friends. The babies will be with us, and it will be a sort of kick-start to the holidays.
Where the love light gleams.
In one week my stepmom arrives for a night or two. Then Melissa and Jeff arrive on Sunday the 21st for a week. All of Angus’ extended family will be at our home for Christmas, and all of them are staying over. It will be stressful in some ways, but I’m so excited. This, finally, is Christmas. People staying over in our not yet finished home. A house full of people and children and food and drink and laughter and toys.
And at the center of it all, my little family.
My perfect, wonderful, flawed little family who made all of my dreams come true.
I’ll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams.
Because even though my life is not perfect, I will be home for Christmas.
As long as I live I’ll never think I am worthy of it, and I will never, ever take it for granted.
-H.