(a children’s book in need of an artist)

All the long hours of the night, Maggie melted into her pillow. Only dreams accompanied those peaceful hours of slumber.

As morning approached, the dreams dried up like puddles in the hot summer sun.

But the energy creating her dreams didn’t vanish, it simply migrated into her toes and her shoulders, causing her to begin stirring herself awake. 

First with her eyes closed, she wriggled beneath the blankets. 

Maggie’s bleary eyes faintly open, letting the light creep in… blinking slowly … bit by bit, letting the warm sunlight gradually fill her eyes- until they were as bright as the morning sky.

She couldn’t lay there any longer- she sat bolt upright, as if the day had just called her by name. 

Her wild blond hair was partly draped and partly piled atop her little head- the mess telling the tale of a deep a restful night’s sleep.

She looked around her room- the purple fan blades, the purple wall, dresses hanging on hangers and strewn about in a certain corner of her bedroom.

She thought of how her mom had taken such great care to make her room a space where she felt cozy, felt at home, felt herself.

Almost immediately, thinking of mom’s love and care stirred a longing to be with mom.

Feet on the floor. Fuzzy robe on. She was like a little-girl-sized stuffed animal, scurrying down the hall, pushing another bedroom door open. 

Peering across the room, Maggie’s eyes meet mom’s eyes looking back at her in just the same way- in a way that says “I love you, come be with me.”

Mom’s hair, notably resembles Maggie’s hair… just a darker, harder slept, version.

Maggie and mom tangle up in a sea of blankets and warmth. 

“Good morning beautiful!” “Good morning mom.” The day begins.