I can’t wait to have kids, as long as I can remember all I’ve wanted was to be a wife and mum.
There’s something about the idea of giving life, about a being relying so much on your breath to continue each day.
I want a big family, were laughter lifts the roof at dinner time and the countryside doesn’t seem so big with their presence.
The late nights just me and my baby rocking back and forth on a chair, a ‘shhh’ coming from my lips and tiny hand placing itself on my cheek. The little dimpely hand that will entwine in mine, the “muuuuuuuum’ that echoes from the hallway and the little feet that clamber into our room at 2am to cuddle in beside my warm sleepy body.
I want their binding love to make a house, our home.
I’ll tell them stories and listen to theirs, imagination feeling their head with beautiful wonder.
I want them to run, barefoot around the yard, water cooling the summer sun from their skin, I want the light to radiate through their smile.
We’ll build tree houses and swings, we’ll chase chickens and hold puppies, we’ll ride horses and milk cows, we’ll be so complete.
Apples will rippen in the orchid, the smell of home cooked bread will linger with the scent of another candle in the living room, floor covered with toys.
I can’t wait for my heart to be so full, I can’t wait for one little smile to fix a bad day.
But until then, I will continue to write about the stories I will one day whisper into little ears when sleep is still so far away and the rain falls on this farmhouse roof.