Pillows on the Tile

I still remember being small and dragging my sleeping bag down the stairs to meet my brother on the tile for an impromptu nap.

We collapsed face down on our pillows, closed our eyes tight, didn't care at all about the cold hard tile against our backs.

Neither do they:
And I love that.
I love that they help me remember what it felt like to be a child and big sister; a little girl who always slept comfortably no matter how hard and cold the surface.