A Quiet Moment

Rare.
The windows closed, aircon on. The baby is always hot.
She's lying stomach-down, 90th percentile forehead resting on her pink Baa Baa Sheep pillow.
Netflix is on standby, and the Good Place is ready to play.

But I don't want to watch tv. Not right now.
I'm appreciating this moment of quiet.
Time to type, and time to not think.
Time to be me.
Not harassed mother, not juggling freelancer.
Just me and the diary, since I was six years old.

There's a green canvas something stuck on the branch of the tree outside. Looks like a waterproof cover for a racket. Once there was a pink panty stuck on the same tree. Everything that falls on it decorates it for life. City rats have no instinct for getting things down from trees.

It might rain. It's only the middle of the day. Don't have to think about dinner for a few hours.

In this moment nothing is happening.
Everything is perfect.