I woke up this morning feeling a heavy heart.
As the sun peeks through the curtains, signalling the start of a new day, our family begins its familiar morning routine.
I rouse the kids from their slumber, coaxing them out of bed with gentle nudges and whispered promises of a delicious breakfast.
They shuffle into the kitchen, their sleepy faces illuminated by the soft glow of dawn. The aroma of pancakes sizzling on the griddle fills the air, mingling with the scent of freshly brewed coffee.
We gather around the table, plates piled high with fluffy pancakes, syrup dripping enticingly down the sides.
Amidst the clatter of utensils and the occasional giggle from the kids, we engage in light-hearted banter about the day ahead.
Getting the kids ready for school today felt like an arduous task as I tried to shake off the remnants of my unsettling dreams.
