.::Of Good and Bad Mornings {Near}::.



Sometimes mornings are just hell. There are mornings where her hair is a mess. Mornings when she wakes up, bleeding into her favorite pair of crisp, white panties. And mornings where she just feels like shit.

Then, some mornings are so delightful that she may in fact stay there for the better part of the day. Luckily, these good mornings are often while the bad mornings are few. And the thing that makes these mornings so good is not a what, but a who. Near is that who.

Often now, ________ would wake to find the smaller boy laying curled into her with his back to her chest, snoozing away. His soft white hair would smell delightful and feel wonderfully soft on the bottom of her chin where his head was often cradled into the crook of her neck by her special feather pillow. One foot on the floor, literally, Near couldn’t sleep without one foot on the floor.

Those mornings were perfect. The mornings where one wakes to find that that special person needed you in the night and that you were able to provide comfort.

His breathing low and calm. Body relaxed. She wraps her arm around his waist and kisses the back of his head before pulling him close, being careful not to disturb him too terribly much, and molds her chest to his back.

His innocence and need is what clears her mind of all worries for the day and makes the mornings perfect.