We all take sleep for granted.
We assume, when our head hits the pillow, we will fall blissfully and soundly asleep.
For many, sleep is allusive.
For children, sleep is as varied as each unique child.

As an only child, I never had to share a room.
I commuted to college and worked during the week, so I never lived in a dorm.
The first time I shared a room was when I got married.
There were many adjustments in that first year.

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Two of my granddaughters are here for the next four days.
One is almost five-years-old and the other is almost two-years-old.
It is delightful to have them here.
It is wonderful to see the world from their eyes.

I have said those words before but now they have a different meaning for me.

My oldest daughter came over to see them and brought the girls outside for a bit.
It was helpful to me because it enabled me to make dinner.
I was in the kitchen cooking and getting ready to feed all of us.
I gathered things that needed to go into recycling.

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I remember the assignment.
I remember working at the kitchen table.
I remember reading it to my mother, whose reaction was one of delighted surprise.
You’re a writer, she said confidently.

If confidence could be caught like a germ, I caught it that day.
To have someone believe in your ability, and express it in no uncertain terms, is a gift.
I enjoyed the writing part of the assignment.
I did not like the artistic part of the task.

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The whole family was home to celebrate our oldest daughter’s birthday.
All the bedrooms were full.
A pack and play had to be put into our walk-in closet so our littlest grandson could nap.
The crib was occupied by our almost two-year-old granddaughter, who was also napping.

It was a full weekend.
Lots of conversations, laughter, walks around the neighborhood, and meals together.
Nieces and nephews were celebrating with abandon, as only children can do.
The refrigerator was full when the weekend began.

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