Monday Morning

I awoke in the middle of the night this weekend to tend to the sick boy. In general I've been a bit wiggy. So when I got back into bed, I wanted to feel a mere notion of that. I nestled up to my husband's back, just to ease the ache, even if I had to pretend I was with someone else, which I did.

After about five minutes, he turned over onto his stomach and scraped me off of him, like scraping ice cream off a spoon, leaving it to melt, sweet and cold on the plate.

I turned and slept, dropped deeply into a dream about a boy. He moved my car, that was the relevant thing. When he returned the keys to me, in front of our friends, we held each other. Not a hug. A long embrace. He stroked my back and my hair; I buried my face in his neck for a whiff of soapy clean boy. We stood there as our friends asked each other what was going on with us, but we didn't care and really, neither did they.

I awoke calm and comforted. I had what I needed.