September 16, 2013 by CassieCravings
The snooze button had been smashed twice already. But I wasn’t asleep. Piled in my bed, I rested quietly in the noises of early morning.
My husband appeared from the dressing room ready for work. He kissed me. “Happy Birthday,” he whispered. I sighed contently and closed my eyes. My dreams drifted back to childhood fantasies scribbled in sticker covered journals.
As a girl, I was sure I would grow up to live in a big southern house in the country. There would be a large garden to tend and half a dozen kids to raise. I was sure I would spend my days curled in a worn armchair writing novel after novel. I couldn’t imagine a better life.
Today I turn 30. I am in a medium sized house in the middle of town. My garden currently has 1 tomato growing on a wilted plant. My one and only child is sleeping soundly on my arm. I have never written a novel and am not even the least inspired to begin one. But I cannot imagine a better life.
I glance at the clock. I need to get up, but I draw my little boy a bit closer to me. I bury my face in his curls. I listen to his soft snore. I take take the time to enjoy the moment just a few minutes longer. It is my birthday, after all.