They wake up stinky, with a scent that is trademarked with DNA from him and me. And because it is our own fragrant creation I breathe in the heavenly scent that only a mother could love. 

Damp with sleep they open their mouths to sigh and yawn. Small gusts of warm dew exit their lips—the doors to their souls. I stick my mouth close to the entrance and inhale desperately. Knowing this sweet scent of small tongues stretching will shift soon. 

Becoming the breath of their father, that he puffs on me when rolled on his side at night. 
The breath that now wakes me from my sleep. And I think of mother’s around the world inhaling the fragrance of their youth. 

I push my nose in deeper and wish once again, for time to pause as I breathe in the scent of my children’s dreams.