In my dream, I was running a snow packed trail that crossed a frozen lake. The only color, white. I could feel the collision of cold air with warm breath. The raw taste of blood in the back of my throat.
Breathe more through your nose, he whispered.
His sudden arrival in my white world causes me to jump and wake.
5 Am in a quiet dark house.
I needed to get up anyway. Leave the beauty of frozen ground behind. Pack up for the second solid day of what needs to be done: working the gym meet. Juggle the girls.
Balancing between 3 separated households, 4 parents going in 5 different directions, 3 conflicting expectations of me, & 2 little kids.
I know that whatever I am doing probably is short of what it should be- what I could be. Like cutting trail through knee high snow, there always seems to have been a better way. A way I just can't see.
I wake them early because they have begged to come back with me BUT they really should be sleeping late. Not waking until the sun rises high enough to light the grass in the backfield.
I can already hear them moving around getting ready to follow me wherever it is I am going.
They really shouldn't do that....