Rainy Mornings

The sound of the rain is running down the gutters in rhythmic metallic plinks. It’s soothing and I realize I’ve heard it all night through the haze of my sleep. Trees outside my window are changing; brilliant colors of fiery oranges, blazing reds and yellows. A few stubborn leaves hang on to life, still a lush green.

The parking lot is covered with fallen leaves, also multicolored. They are flattened to the pavement by the rain. I sit here in the quiet – the only one awake in my home aside from my feline companions.

A soft, gentle kick from within reminds me that no, I am not the only one awake. Someone else in my household is stirring. The daughter that sleeps within my womb; my precious baby girl is rising and ready for her day. Still so small, yet kicking and nudging with surprising force.

I smile as I feel her turn and shift. I picture her sleeping soundly, sucking her thumb and even dreaming. Of what? Of me, of her daddy? I like to think that maybe she is. I think about how she will soon accompany me in the outside world on rainy mornings like this; in my arms sleeping, or attached to my breast as she has her breakfast. I will sing songs to her and stroke her sweet little face.

It is just the two of us awake on this cool, wet fall morning. Moments like this are moments I cherish, as soon I will have to share her with the rest of the world.

But not yet.

Not just yet.