Most days feel like the ones prior. An exhausted extension of one, months, maybe even years ago. Each one is similar to those neighboring days of the week, long and mundane. I'm ready for a nap shortly after I wake, looking forward to the almost ritualistic moment where I creep in to check on my sleeping babe, covering her small warm body just gently enough to wake her.
She wakes almost every time, sitting up instantaneously, sleepy-eyed with a perfectly sculpted head of hair. And in those few moments I hold her tight, her usual inquires taking place- the potty, a cup of milk, and snuggling up in our bed for the remainder of the early morning hours. I agree to all of the above, naturally, knowing that our small yet very significant moment together is the only way I want to start my morning.
After the sun has set and the sky is dark, she asks for her cup of milk. We lie there, quiet and still, listening to the quiet songs of the crickets outside. And as her breath softens and her eyes become heavy, I whisper how much I love her. And just like every other time, she responds with, "You're elcome". My sweet girl.
Most days I have regrets about going back to work full time. I miss our late mornings, long baths, and spontaneous trips. I miss spending time with my girl. But I value those moments that start and end each day because they are mine.