Queen of My Castle

After saying good-bye to Daniel, I began to tackle my day. I interjected moments of nursing the baby, reading aloud, and reading for myself (a re-read of a favorite) in-between switching loads of laundry, loading and running the dishwasher, doing hair and changing diapers.

Now, more than four hours later, my morning tasks are complete. In addition, our dining table is set, awaiting the King of our Castle's return home from morning worship. A pot of warm potato soup simmers on the stove and a tray of buttermilk biscuits are ready to be popped in the oven at the sound of the car in the driveway.

I am not huddled under blankets in my bed, willing sips of water down my swollen and inflamed throat. I am not contagious, either (though whether or not other exposed members of the family are is something only time will tell). I am not croaking when I talk and my eyes are not blurry when I type.

Today, I am Queen of my castle again.

And it feels good.