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Asleep Katniss has to be one of my favourite Katniss’. For many reasons.
For one she certainly scowls less in her sleep.
But two, she almost always appears more relaxed.
Of course both Katniss and I have had our fair share of nightmarish nights, filled with as you can guess nightmares. It comes with the territory of what I’m told is PTSD. But overtime we slowly became use to it, learning when to wake the other from a catatonic hell, helping them out of it with soothing words and when needed a chest to cry in to.
And then finally over time the nightmares slowly began to decrease in number; what use to be seven days of nightmares a week turned into six, then to five and so on until we were left with what could sometimes be a full week of no nightmares.
They still come every so often, but now fifteen something odd years later Katniss looks younger in her sleep.
She’s not the sixteen year old girl she once was anymore, but some may say that’s for the better; and I just so happen to be that ‘some’.
Watching her now I can spot a million little details I can adore about her, the soft relaxed features of her face, the tufty bits of her hair that stick out from her braid and her singlet top tussled around from sleep.
I try not to laugh at the last one when I notice one of her boobs has escaped its prison. Every inch of her is beautiful but I may have just a slight favouritism to her boobs. Not only are they amazing to look at and perfect to hold, but they are/ once were the main source of food for our two beautiful children.
But as I think this I realise I’ve caught myself in a loop, for there’s also her tummy, soft and pudgy with a few pounds left to spare nowadays, an achievement of many things.
Of course this is where both of our children grew for a little less than a year, this is where they came to life and Katniss kept them safe for us, giving up her whole body for them so they could grow.
Yes, her body is spectacular for many reasons.
Deciding I don’t want to wake her quite yet I creep out of our bedroom, making sure to part from her with a ever so gentle kiss to her temple, a kiss that doesn’t stir her yet releases an involuntary hum.
I can’t help but smile as I continue to exit our bedroom into the hallway, after all these years she still doesn’t quite know the effect she can have on me.
In the hallway my feet lead me first into Rye’s room, the closest to both mine and Katniss’ so we can easily reach him if we need to in the night.
It was a hard transition into using the nursery for both of the kids at first, but it was certainly easier with Rye, being that we’d already experienced it with Willow.
I still remember the nights none of us would get any sleep, Katniss and I scared to leave Willow’s side for very long and Willow simply because we kept hassling her to check if she were breathing still.
But I’m happy to find that in this moment Rye like his mother is still fast asleep, half sprawled out across his crib half tucked in on himself.
As I walk closer my smile widens at the sight of my son and I have to resist the urge to ruffle his blonde curls, so similar to mine I sometimes forget I’m looking at my son and not a younger version of myself.
Much the same as I did with Katniss I creep out of the room again whispering “I love you” to him as I go.
Then finally my feet lead me to the last occupied room of our house.
I spot Willow almost immediately as I enter, sprawled out on her bed in a deep sleep almost identical to her mother’s I nearly burst out in laughter.
Much like Rye looks so much like myself, Willow looks so much like her mother, from afar especially that is, because almost instantly as I enter I am picking up on the little details I did for Katniss. The same black hair sticking up every which way from an almost identical braid, a relaxed facial expression, and pyjamas and bed coverings tossed around her small body, clear evidence of a good nights sleep.
Carefully I lean over to brush Willow’s tufty hair down, pressing the gentlest of kisses to her forehead as I whisper “I love you” to her as well.
After that I leave the room again, quietly making my way downstairs to begin on breakfast for the day.
The image of all of my sleeping family members keeping me going.