Pirouette [h.s.]

extra- fruit salad

2025

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I'm awoken by the half-asleep rustling of Harry beside me, before noise can make its way into my conscious. Nothing but Harry - peaceful, sweet Harry, his eyes still softly shut despite the way he shuffles to cuddle into my shoulder. The sun just barely peeks through the slit of the curtain, summer San Francisco air sneaking into our room like a hazy shadow. His breaths even back out as quickly as they sped, the angel at my side falling right back into a cloud of dreams. With a gentle smile spreading across my cheeks, I plant a gentle kiss into Harry's hair and let my eyes flutter shut, waiting for the sound of the alarm with tired eyes.

Like clockwork, it blares off, the pattering of tiny footsteps signaling the start of the day. Soon enough, tiny fists grapple at the doorknob and Aurora pops her head in, hair askew from a full night of sleep. Stitch follows his girl, padding softly into the bedroom and curling up near the end of the bed.

"Good morning, raspberry girl." Harry grumbles, voice thick and raspy as if he'll fall right back asleep at a moment's notice.

"Mornin', Daddy!" Her face lights up like a million fireworks, exploding brilliant color into the sky. My miraculous little baby.

She makes her way towards our bed, climbing up the side like it's a jungle gym and crawling to fit directly between myself and her father. I give her a kiss at the same time that Harry blows a tired raspberry against the side of her neck. Squealing giggles erupt from her little body as she wriggles away from his tickling lips. Rory nuzzles her head against my chest with a contented, breathy sigh, feet extended towards Harry so that she can stay in contact with both of us at the same time.

The more she's grown, the more of a character she's become. Not quite four years old, and dancing around the house as if she's a prima ballerina. So fiercely independent, like a prowling leopard, with a deep seated need to be coddled and comforted in order to feel safe and cared for. A fiery eagle, dripping flames through the sky and erupting volcanic into the atmosphere. A delicate, vulnerable fawn, wobbly on unsteady legs and dipping into plush fields of grass and flowers. Pinks and purples and blues, translucent, melting color against midnight canvas. My Aurora.

She's moments away from tucking her thumb into her mouth, and I am moments away from pulling it right back out, when the shrill cry rings through the room. Morning alarm. 6 am wakeup call.

Harry rolls onto his side, kissing Rory's head and leaning across in search of my lips. "I'll go."

"No, it's okay." I butt in before he has a chance to move; wanting desperately to go fix the crying down the hall. He shoots me a look that I cheerfully ignore, guiding Aurora to cuddle up next to her dad and rolling out of bed. I can't help the wince that crosses my face as I stand and I'm thankful, in that moment, that I'm facing away from my little family.

As I make my way down the hall, the crying gets louder - some kind of fanfare for my arrival. I push open the nursery door, cooing softly against the ear-splitting hunger.

"Hey, hey, hey, little peach. Shh, Mama's here." My heart swells the moment the baby is in my arms, the cries dwindling to tiny, pitiful whimpers. "Good morning, sweet Shane. Two hours was too long, huh? I love you, baby boy." He starts to calm down as he pieces together the image of me before his eyes, happily clean, and swaddled up, and sinking into my touch.

"Why don't we go see sissy?" I ask, gently kissing the top of his head and tucking him close to my chest.

It isn't long before I'm hoisting another little one gingerly against my side - one that is nothing but a chatterbox of babbles and random words. A wriggling little jellybean, squirming against my hip, excited for a new day. As if every single day is new, and bright, and beautiful.