Sarah has left her own bed and crept into mine while I’ve slept, and her warm little body is pressed close against me. Her head is on my pillow, and I’m lying right near the edge of the mattress, so that the entire other side, more than half the bed, is empty.I slide out of bed slowly, so as not to wake her, and grab my heavy woolen sweater from the chair where I tossed it the night before. It is cold, and I head straight to the living area and turn the gas heater on. It fills the small room with a comforting golden glow and warms it immediately. I make a pot of tea and take it to the corner of the sofa, my legs tucked beneath me.I started waking early like this when Sarah was a newborn, and I’ve been unable to sleep late since. Sometimes I spend this time cleaning or getting ready for the day while Sarah is asleep, making her lunch, preparing her clothes, but usually I sit and sip tea, enjoy this time for myself. I don’t think about anything in particular; I’ve become very good at not thinking.
