The air conditioner blows a stream of brisk air across my face.

It is hot outside, blistering for a May afternoon, but even despite that the room’s temperature makes me shiver. But the children are unaffected and sleep is where most are found, nestled in oblivion.

The sun spots a break in the blinds. Its soft yellow tentacles skirt across the page I am writing on.

Modern day lullabies drift in melodic rhythms from the CD player. I have heard these songs so many times I now hum them as I work.

The love and peace lyrics echo in my brain when I do simple things like making dinner, sipping coffee, or simply brushing my teeth. The lyrics are man's way of convincing himself that somewhere goodness still exists and that it isn't all blood, death and struggle after all.

The scent of grape juice suddenly wafts through the room and a cough risesfrom the child beside me. He scrunches his blanket then rolls to his left, then to his right.

A yawn. He settles upon his stomach, and closes his eyes again. I envy his ability to block out everything and everyone. If only I had his skill to stop the world and hear nothing but my own heart, at least for a little while.

An early riser stirs, sits up, and looks my way. I wave at her shadowed face and motion her to lie down. She gets embarrassed, and plops her head on her plump purple pillow. She pulls her cover up, wiggles it with her toes and kicks her legs like an antelope ready to leap. Her fingers crinkle the sheet, smooth it out, crinkle, smooth... sigh.

Being quiet is so very very hard.

The hour ticks on.

The time to rise is drawing near.

Soon the room will bustle with noise and new ideas.

There will be laughing, talking and sharing stories. There will be hugs, giggles and debates. We will snack and enjoy the afternoon light.

These are our children.

The little spirits that make up our world

the ones trying to find their way despite all the obstacles, despite all the newness that is them.

I stare at these small people and marvel at their resiliency and their perseverance.

They are us,

after all

Us in young flesh.

The Folds of Sleep

So we nap.

We take the wake from our minds

and bury it within the pillows of our souls

as we drift towards that open field of mindful

non-existence.

Playing with the folds of our lives

contemplating what is and what was

we wish for sleep, that blissful little piece of life we hope will give our bodies rest.

But we are travelers always

scouting through the years

as our eyes close to silence and our minds open wide

We are second children

every one.

by: Cindy Letchworth

There is nothing cuter than animals sleeping. In this video, you will see many animals as well as some children who just couldn't stay awake any longer