It was one of those awful early morning dreams: conflict, misunderstanding, loss, sadness.....
and then a knock on our camper door.
Two little girls, four and seven, scampered in, chattering away, shaking off winter boots, crawling up onto the bed with me.
My eyes opened to their smiling faces, their questions, their simplicity, their innocence.
The dream tried to linger with me.
The seven year old said I had tears in my eyes.
"Just morning tears", I assured her as I tussled her hair.
The dream tried once more.
But there, on that bed, that morning, there was only love, and happiness, and innocence, and questions.
Lots of questions.
And playing with the fan and the lights.
And coffee (for me).
And cookies (for them).
It is my favourite way to be woken up.
I look forward to more mornings just like them.