Would you even have time for a man? Oh yes, yes I do.

Morning routine. Somethings missing. Dim lights flash and I can’t tell which pillow it’s hiding under. Found it. Swipe screen to disable alarm. Snuggle pillow, wish dreams were real. Sigh. Pray. Click scripture app, scroll. Running shoes on, go for a stroll. Green shake. Oatmeals ready, 5 bowls, 5 spoons. Turn down heater. Play the piano, kids slowly wake, play louder. Yell good-morning down the stairs. Slice an orange. Stretch on the side of the bed. Pray again since the last one probably didn’t make any sense. Shower. Stare at clothes neatly hung in the closet. Make decisions, change mind, change shoes. Brush teeth. Make up. Earrings. Necklace. No Necklace. Lipstick. Sign note books. Granola bars emerge from hidden locations, tuck them into heavy backpacks. Hugs. Smiles. Two out the back door, two out the front. Smile. Wave at bus. Laptop in bag, something related to dinner set out on top of the stove. Keys. Last kid up the stairs and out the door. Walk through hallways once more, straighten pillows, open bedroom curtains. Perfume. Lights out. Door shut. Smile at the sky. Ready for the day alone.

Morning routine. With him. Dim lights flash, reach over to the end table. Swipe screen to disable alarm. Reach over, touch him. His shoulder. Snuggle up, share warmth. Happy Sigh. Pray. Click scripture app, scroll. Running shoes on, go for a stroll. Green shakes. Oatmeals ready, 6 bowls, 6 spoons. Turn down heater. Play the piano, kids slowly wake, play louder. Yell good-morning down the stairs. Slice an orange. Stretch on my side of the bed. Pray together. Race him for the shower. Stare at his clothes neatly hung in the closet. Smile. Stare at mine right next to them. Make decisions, change mind, change shoes. Brush teeth. Make up. Perfume. Earrings. Let him fasten my necklace. Smile. Reach back. Touch him gently. Thank him. Kisses. Lipstick. Sign note books. Granola bars emerge from hidden locations, tuck into heavy backpacks. Sneak a note into his lunch bag. Hugs. Smiles. Two out the back door, two out the front. Smile. Wave at bus. Laptop in bag, something related to dinner set out on top of the stove. Keys. Last kid up the stairs and out the door. Walk through hallways once more. Straighten pillows, open bedroom curtains. Pick up his socks. Smile. Lights out. Door shut. Smile at him as we drive away. Ready for the day together.

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