like a sleepy golden storm

This morning in bed I barely moved and my sleeping son rolled over and draped his leg over mine. We sleep like a single organism, our family. It’s wonderful. & now, I can’t fall back asleep, but I am content. I bury my head in his hair. It is THIS pillow-bushy and blonde and tangled and smells delicious. Depths. His skin is smooth and alive and flawless, warm velveteen, a tawny timbre even in the dead of winter.

This morning my first cup of coffee and I’m watching a little telly. My daughter comes downstairs, long legs and a shallow belly-bowl and her little cotton underthings and big beautiful eyes and she plunks next to me on the couch, and I mean right next to me, and I tell her not to get dressed, when I get home after the treatment center we’ll watch television together, and she is well-pleased.

A little before 1 I pull the car off onto the main thoroughfare and a few moments later my phone rings and I click on over and it’s my son and he’s sobbing. He’d chased my car because he wanted “one more kiss and one more hug” and now he hiccups he’s lost. Turns out he ran over four blocks and almost caught me. I had no idea. I tell him to call me back if he can’t find his way home and my eyes sting a little.

Tonight. My husband is out the door for a run after kissing me goodbye and in the quiet I fold up clothes then I plate up dinner – all-day pot roast and an Ethiopian cabbage, potato and carrot dish. Today I didn’t get up to much, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy so much what I have.