day of rest

I heard the door brush open, before sunrise. I could feel little eyes peering in, watching me. And though I desperately wanted to stay put, I braced myself for the day, like any other morning.

Then the door closed again and I woke up after eight.

I came down the stairs and there they were, painting window catchers, laughing and carrying on.

Those early morning hours were followed by the customary sibling dissension; it was short lived.

But getting to sleep in, well, that was a treat - sweet, sweet Sabbath.