02 March 2012

#FridayFlash - A Mother's Nature

Living in Tucson, I enjoy the warm winter weather as compared to the "East," everywhere is else is east of here, but this winter we're not the only ones with warmer than usual weather. During a discussion with my husband about the unusual weather pattern, my Muse pokes me with that sword of hers with a story idea. Below is the result of the poke.


She stretched out in the warm bed, her feet poked out from under the duvet. It was too early to get up. Why couldn’t she just stay in bed? She sighed, it wasn’t in her job description to relax, and these days no one was catching a break, least of all her.

Fatigue still clung to her as she swung her legs off the bed. A snore and shuffling behind her made the corner of her mouth twitch. A glance over her shoulder and she saw him relax back into his pillow. He could sleep through anything. If only she had that ability.

Too many nights of listening for her kids. When they were young, she couldn’t sleep as she would make sure that they breathed in their bassinets, and they didn’t even know about Back to Sleep back then. As the children grew, she would listen for cries for help from the Boogie Man. Then, she remembered too vividly, those times when the children were ill. Many a night she’d sing them back to sleep, only to find that the night had passed with little rest for herself. Then, before they kids moved out, she always had an ear out for the ones that defied curfew. It seemed like eons since those days. To be a mother.

Sunlight streamed into the bedroom making everything entirely too bright, the walls appeared more tan than the chamoisee she’d painted them. Thanks the Stars she hadn’t settled on that wheat color, otherwise she’d be blinded right now.

How late was it? With the angle and strength of the light, coupled with the warmth of the room, she figured it must be late morning. At that thought, her adrenaline spiked, and she jumped out of bed. With long strides, she padded across the mossy carpet to the kitchen.

After the late night work session, she needed to infuse with caffeine. She smirked. Maybe not needed, but certainly wanted. At least science had confirmed what she’d always known, caffeine helped brain function. Not that she needed the added boost, but back in her days of raising children, she’d incorporated the ritual into her day as something to do for herself.

Her bare feet registered the warmth emanating from wooden floor in the kitchen. The sunlight had been working its magic in here as well. Floor to ceiling windows had many benefits, letting the Sun do its job on her floors was one of them. And as soon as she had a cup of her morning elixir in her hand, she’d stand in front of the window basking in the sunlight.

The coffee maker stood waiting for her on the marble counter top. But in order to get to it, she’d have to walk past her laptop. Even though she had a list a mile long to get done today, she wasn’t touching the evil thing until after her routine. Ignoring the whir of the computer as it backed itself, she set about making her morning brew.

Tamping down her grounds, she wondered at all her gadgets. Technology for the sake of technology was an ok thing, heck, she couldn’t live without her espresso maker. But that computer, with it’s ability to crunch numbers was going to drive her crazy. Even thinking about all the data entry they’d done lately made her head pound, and they hadn’t even started to analyze it. No use letting it get to me. There would be plenty of number crunching today, although she should follow up on her normal tasks. Some things, and people, shouldn’t be left to their own devices too long.

With her milk frothed, she stood tapping her fingertips on the counter as the espresso aroma wrapped itself around her. When the percolating finally stopped, she poured the dark liquid into her favorite cup, the chipped one that had been a gift from one of the children, Summer. Not that she had favorites, but Summer warmed her heart in ways the others couldn’t.

Cup in hand, she glided to the window, careful to not spill her brown gold.

Outside, the sunlight filtered through the trees. Tiny buds promised a rainbow of blossoms. Even her raised garden beds showed signs of life.

Through the windows, she heard the chittering of the animals. She chuckled as she watched birds dance from branch to branch and into the sky, luring, flirting. Even the squirrels and chipmunks were busy wooing. She sipped her beverage, reminiscing about her days of courtship with her own sky flirt.

Arms slipped around her, warm against her skin. A mouth nipped at the hollow near her collar bone.

She laughed. “How did you know I was thinking of you?”

His husky chortle blew his warm breath down her breast. “How could I not know? Not even your coffee could mask your scent.” He pulled her closer to him. “You are as beautiful and alluring as always.” His own arousal firm against her back.

As much as she wanted to give in, she said, “Later. We’ve got time to indulge later.”

He pulled her tighter. “My argument exactly. We’ve got time to indulge now.”

She sighed. To indulge now? Or later? There was so much data to go over, so much to set right. Too much was changing, and too fast.

He must’ve heard her thoughts, he could always do that, “Fine. At least let me enjoy Spring’s day with you for just a few moments before you run off to your fixing-the-planet duties.”

In answer, she rested her head against his shoulder. But something he’d said bothered her. “What day is it?”

He shrugged. “The last day of January.”

She clenched her jaw. “They’re at it again.” Stepping out of his embrace, she slammed the coffee cup on the counter, where it sloshed out and puddled. “Damn.

“Isn’t it bad enough that I have to fix everyone else’s mistakes, I shouldn’t have to deal with their mischief as well.”

Her children, while fickle at times, were usually responsible and did their jobs. But sometimes, they got lazy or pulled their power plays over each other. When would a Mother’s work ever be done? Apparently never.

With her sternest voice, she called out, “Spring. Winter.” She might as do an attitude adjustment for all. “You too, Summer and Autumn.”

Mere seconds passed as her children appeared. “You called us, Mother Nature?”

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