like a small batch of kittens but with less fishy breath and fleas

Our bed is a fishing net; you don’t know what it will catch by morning. Sometimes it’s just me, alone, as Ralph has had a sleepless night wandering the house. Usually I find children in it. This morning found both of them clinging, one to a side, with their arms around my neck and their faces softly pressed against me. The black cat, encouraged there was affection to be had. hovered just by, making soft honking sounds through her nose (I think she has a deviated septum). I held each child with my arm around them and hand around their small upper arms. Their skin is perfect; their little arms so trusting and whole. Nels kissed and kissed and kissed me and when I looked down Love was shining in his face as he smiled up at me. Sophie stroked the hair out of my eyes with her confident, tender hands. I think the first thing I said when I opened my eyes is, “No one better kiss me on the lips,” which of course they silently and smilingly did, their soft fragrant hair falling against my face. I thought that I’d given birth to these creatures that now supply me with love, a full feast, every day. What a smart plan I’d had!

This morning finds us off to Westport to pick up a Freecycle boon (I hope) of a vintage radio. We lost an hour of time this morning and I slept so well it felt like I’d absorbed it.

Comments are closed.