Kissed By the Sun Each Morning
I get kissed by the sun each morning
Put my feet on a hardwood floor
I get to hear my children laughing
Down the hall through the bedroom door
~Blessed, Martina McBride
Consciousness creeps into her dreams with a hazy sort of urgency, poking at her brain like a forgotten chore. The first thing that registers is the warm body of her wife curled into her and the faint scent of citrus clinging to dark hair as it tickles her nose. The second thing that registers is the awareness that it’s Sunday. Quinn sighs in happiness, snuggling closer to Rachel with the intention of allowing her body to drift back to sleep for another hour or two—at least until the unmistakable sound of a door closing interrupts her lazy semi-slumber.