No matter how early I get up
when we have a ferry to catch
the morning feels pinched
time draining in nerve-wracking chunks
and simple activities
like feeding cereal to my son
etch irritation into my teeth
chafing my acute need
for order.
On the boat
my son hits a dog in the face
not very hard
but not by accident either
and I wonder if I might cry
in front of all these people
not out of shame or fatigue
just a quiet grief
for the morning so far
these hours sunk
into the past
not as life
but as something distasteful
we endured.
After he goes down for a nap
the cabin quiet except for the rain
I open my laptop
and sit for a moment
in front of the blank screen.
Then I walk over to my husband
where he is lying on the floor
by the fire
I lay down on his legs
and he begins to read out loud
from our favourite magazine
while we share a bag of chips
and cry together
at the sad parts.