Light in Motherhood: A Collection of Short Stories
By: Melissa Harper | Date: March 31 2019
By Molly Flinkman
I never like sunsets in those early, newborn days. Night settles in just as it always does, but this time it doesn’t bring sleep with it. Instead, each time I lay my head on the pillow, I anticipate being awoken again.
Rest becomes a memory and I’m left to use coffee to fill in the gaps.
But then, of course, the sun rises. Each night always ends when the light of a new day pours in through the windows and pushes the weight of darkness out.
I’ve always liked that word: Light.
As a noun, it allows you to see. It makes vision possible. It illuminates. As a verb, it ignites.
I feel these meanings deeply when the sun starts to seep in and settle on the sweet face of that newborn baby.
Everything is clearer during the day. Brighter. Better in focus.
But more so, the sun always seems to set a match to the feelings that sometimes get snuffed out a little by the exhaustion of night. The love. The joy. The hopeful anticipation of all the days to come.
The sun fills another day with hope. It reminds me to be thankful.
It even makes the setting sun more bearable because, without the darkness of night, the joy of the morning would be less overwhelming.
And, in those early days at least, the promised morning light is just what I need. (I mean, that and coffee, obviously.)
Molly is a Midwestern mom of three kids (under the age of four). She’s a teacher turned stay-at-home mom, a wife of a resident doctor, and, mostly, just a particularly average person trying to live each day well (while drinking all the coffee). You can connect with her on Instagram (@mflinkman) and find more of her writing at mollyflinkman.com.
Originally posted 2017-06-04 19:48:00.