offshore | h.s

31

GENEVIEVE CLARK

we mothers stand still so our daughters can look back to see how far they've come.

I'm roused from my sleep by the sensation of a little body climbing onto the bed with uncontainable excitement. Tiredly, I open my eyes to find the room bathed in the soft glow of pre-dawn light. It's Christmas morning, and the air is thick with the palpable magic of the holiday. I check my phone — 4:45 am. Avery's enthusiasm is infectious, but this is a bit too early even for my festive spirit.

"Mumma, it's Christmas! Santa came!" Avery's voice is a mixture of delight and urgency.

I manage a sleepy smile and reach out to pat her head. "Baby, it's still really early. How about you go back to sleep with us for just half an hour more?"

But Avery is far too excited to entertain the idea of more sleep. She's a bundle of energy, and I can see the anticipation dancing in her eyes. She's been waiting for this day for what must have felt like an eternity to her little heart.

Just then, a soft snore escapes from the other side of the bed. I glance over to see Harry, peacefully asleep with a smile lingering on his lips. I can't help but smile at the sight.

"See, Daddy's still sleeping. We don't want to wake him up, do we?" I murmur, pulling her close to me in the hopes of calming her down.

But Avery has other plans in mind. Ignoring my whispered plea, she giggles mischievously and starts bouncing on the mattress. "It's Christmas!" she chirps, her voice carrying both excitement and innocence.

I roll my eyes playfully and cast a warning glance in her direction. "Ave, sweetheart, settle down," I say in a hushed tone, my fingers lightly brushing her hair away from her face.

To my amusement, Harry stirs at the commotion, his eyelids fluttering open as he lets out a sleepy yawn. His gaze meets Avery's and he chuckles, his voice a mere whisper. 

"Merry Christmas," he mumbles, his eyes drooping once more.

But Avery is on a mission. She doesn't intend to let anyone sleep through this magical moment. "No! Daddy, wake up!" she declares with all the determination a two-year-old can muster.

I can't help but smile at the back-and-forth between my daughter and Harry. Her infectious energy has won the battle, and Harry's eyes slowly open again, a sleepy grin tugging at his lips.

"Alright, alright," he sighs, his playful surrender evident in his voice. He turns his attention fully to Avery, his eyes bright and warm. "Merry Christmas, bunny."

Without hesitation, he slips out of bed, his movements fluid and effortless. Avery lets out a delighted giggle as he swoops her up in his arms, her small form nestled against his side.

"Are you ready to see what presents are waiting under the tree for you?" he asks, and she nods. 

I watch their interaction with a fond smile, the warmth of their connection evident even in these early moments. 

I push myself out of bed, my feet touching the cool floor. In the mirror, I catch a glimpse of my tousled hair, a reminder that this is Christmas morning and there's no time for perfection. Still, I can't help but reach up and try to tame a few stray strands.

Harry's eyes meet mine through the reflection, a soft smile curving his lips. He steps closer, his fingers brushing over my shoulder as he adjusts the strap of my singlet. His touch lingers just a second longer, and I feel a familiar ache inside me.