It starts with the pitter-patter of feet or a yawn that whispers through the walls. It starts with the sounds you’ve waited so long to hear, “Dada dada, Mama mama,” or sometimes a cry.
And you’re off. You can’t stop it now. The flow is moving you, carrying you through the morning.
It’s diapers changing, breakfast making, kids dressing, hugs giving, books reading, cleaning, laundering, wiping. No yelling (the yelling doesn’t make it go faster; you’ve tried and failed here before).
Find your pacer: the slowest amongst you sets the pace.
One step ahead of or just keeping up with the chaos that is flow.
On rare occasions, the gun doesn’t sound. The babe doesn’t wake early. The kids sleep in.
On rare occasions, I wake to the sound of silence.
I write, I read, I cook,
I wait expectantly for the bang.