Sighing I put my pen on the notebook and close my eyes for a moment. Perhaps writing in the middle of the night isn't the best choice.
But I can't help it.
Since the day three weeks ago when I came back from the hospital, the inspiration is back. It's so strong, I can't sleep at night and when I start to write, I can't put the pen down. I have so many ideas, I think I will write enough songs for the rest of my life.
My tired eyes focus on a sleeping baby boy and my heart instantly fills with joy. This little baby who's sleeping most of the time has inspired me more than anyone. Since the day I first held him in my arms, I feel a better person. My heart is full of love and kindness for this baby.
An unexpected creak of the door stirs me. Unwillingly I look up from the baby and find my husband standing at the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as if he is scolding me.
"You're not sleeping again," He whispers as he walks further into the room.
"I'm not tired,"
Wilmer shakes his head at me disapprovingly. Then he sits down on the floor beside my armchair and puts his hand on mine, squeezing it gently. "I don't want you to get sick,"
"I'm okay, Wilmer, I just really want to write," I turn to him and my heart skips a beat – he looks so worried, and damn, he's worried about me.
A smile spreads across my face when I lean over and peck his lips several times.
I lean back in the armchair then, crossing my legs.
The notebook is opened in a few moments and then I'm writing again. I can feel Wilmer moving, I expect him to leave, but he just sits more comfortably on the cold floor, which is not comfortable at all, I know because I have sat on it many times, and sighs.
I smile a little but never stop writing because my muse can slip through my fingers before I can feel it and I really want to finish this song – a song about a girl who felt in love with a man who was her prince charming, how original, bravo, Demi.
After a while I hear a snoring which makes me grin. Mostly I am annoyed when he snores but this time I don't find it annoying at all – he's asleep on the floor because of me, because he didn't want to leave me here alone.
I close my notebook – enough writing for this night – and shake Wilmer. He stirs, looks around confused as if he doesn't know where he is or what is happening but then his eyes find mine and he exhales calmly.
"You fell asleep," I say and stand up from the armchair. I stretch my hand for him and he takes it, standing up as well.
I lean over, tiptoe and press my lips against his. "I think we should go to bed,"
"Yes, indeed," He agrees and takes my hand.
I look at the baby, making sure he is still sleeping peacefully and then we walk out of the room, hand in hand as if we are still a teenager couple, as if we don't have a child, as if we have just fallen in love.
-
The car stops and Matt gets out of it but I can't bring myself to do the same. My eyes are full of tears, I might break down any moment, how am I supposed to go on the red carpet and smile? This is madness.
