Drained

I'm laying in bed right now, trying to rest my tired mind and weary body. I can barely move a muscle. My body feels like dead weight.

I hear Lucas downstairs banging something. Now I hear his little feet pounding on the ground, climbing up the stairs. The door to my room swings open.

"Momma", he says, "can I play outside?"

"Honey, It's eight o'clock. It's almost bedtime."

"I just want to go outside and play for a little bit. Can we?"

I'm tired, so tired right down to my aching bones. I can't even fathom getting out of this bed and moving my exhausted body, but I will. I will because my son needs me. I will do anything for my family regardless of how tired and weak I am.

And while he's having a meltdown on the floor as I type, my body is feeling even more drained. I'm mustering up every last bit of energy I have to console his sadness -- sad because the day is almost over, it's eight o'clock, time for little boys to go to bed, not outside time.

The sun will rise again tomorrow, my sweet child.