Upon Awakening

Each morning, I wake, without pause to the sound of my daughter’s voice.  I move through slumber with the sounds of doors opening and closing.  Her small whispers of a voice talking to her stuffed animals asking what they want to eat with their cereal and oatmeal and milk. Then in the same breath, turning the volume up and calling out to tell me her requests for the morning meal.  Can I have cereal and oatmeal and milk and tiramisu? The conversation continues rapid fire and speed unknown to me until my feet hit the floor and I rise up.