Her toes were playing in the morning light, while her hands and mind dappled in stacking cups that teetered, falling on every other attempt. A playful curiosity dressed her mind as she warmed my lap. Meanwhile, I could feel my own mind race ticking too close and beyond when we should have left. Steps trampled the floorboards gleefully, distracted by the excitement of a contractor performing surgery on a well-used fan. Compelled by ticking hands, I began the role call, water bottles? Snacks? Bags? Shoes? And the non-negotiable wee-stop. We barrelled through the front door, rushing to press children into seats, weighed down like a mule laden with baggage for a moments travel.

This was based on my own travel this morning. I played with my daughter while my husband got everything packed and my 4yo son helped a sparky who was dismantling a broken fan. I was fun playing with my daughter but was stressed about leaving too late and making sure we hadn't forgotten anything. I chose to think of what the room felt like with my daughter, and how she felt to me.

Then, I made it a four-line verse:

Drinking light from plastic cups,
Cradled in your warmth,
Sitting with a mind quiet,
Watching playful storms.

I almost didn't include “cradled” but I liked the reference to a baby (my daughter is 1), and the fact that when she choses my lap to sit on, it feels like she's cradling me. 

As always, if you have any questions or comments - hit me up! I'm always happy to chat about writing.