I sit on the couch cuddled under a blanket with my still hot coffee in hand. Cartoons flash on the TV, and I run my fingers through my son's dirty blonde hair as he blinks the sleep away from his eyes.
It's still dark outside but my husband has already been gone for an hour. I imagine they've probably settled into a spot and are carefully setting decoys for their morning hunt.
I slide to the weather app on my phone that says it's still well below freezing outside and I pull the blanket up a little higher and tell myself I'm more than happy to stay home with the kids.
But there's that quiet whisper at the back of my mind that reminds me that isn't quite true. I would gladly sit in a cold blind, shoving handwarmers in my boots, just for the chance to watch the ducks fly across a Colorado sunrise.
My inner wild always gets a little jealous on these mornings. She's never been happy that I pushed her aside to be a mom.
If I'm not careful, her little voice will steal the joy of this quiet morning. She'll make me think that life was better when I could go hunt whenever I wanted.
She'll make me jealous of the time my best friend spends in the outdoors without me.
She'll convince me to wish these precious days away.
But what I'm realizing -- what already feels like too late -- is that these days ARE precious. There was a time when this sandy haired boy would come lay in my bed every morning; But, now when he wakes up before the sun, he goes to play with his dinosaurs over sleepy snuggles with mom. And entirely too soon, I know he will be too cool for cartoons and coffee and he will choose extra sleep over quiet time with me.
Even that wild voice knows that this isn't forever.
I squeeze his tiny body a little closer and breathe in his little boy smell.
There's only one thing better than a hunting sunrise, and that's this moment here.
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