Bits
It's another gloriously warm night out there.* Warm enough to be without a jacket.
Just got home from my second concert in 4 nights with one of my favorite friends**. It was the first show of their tour. The kinks and minor errors weren't all worked out so it just made it all the more vulnerable and sweet. The tartness of the wine is still clinging to my palette.
I come home to a quiet house. I walk into one dark room to see sleeping children. There's a little brown-haired girl in one bed - her hand loosely wrapped around her bear, snoring ever so slightly. She's 4 now and tomorrow will want a recap on the show and will provide me with bits and pieces of her evening without me. In the crib nearby is a wee boy of 17 months. His covers have been kicked off and his bum is in the air. He was especially clingy before I left for the show tonight. Unusually clingy, wanting only me. Because I'm his mom.
I walk into another room and see a man sleeping in my bed. He's sleeping on my side of the bed (as he often does) until I get there so that I don't have to climb into a cold bed. Tomorrow we will have a full day of working together as a team. I don't think I ever could have imagined how good it could be, having a companion like him.
I'm not sure what I did to deserve all this.
I am humbled and I am grateful.
* The thing about being a Manitoban is that when gloriously warm November nights happen you're just so overwhelmingly grateful.
** The thing about having a friend like her (and I'm dreadfully lucky in that I have a few) is that it really kind of spoils you for other possible friendships. You might meet someone and think "hmm, maybe there's something?" but then you realize "yeah, but you're no X so really what's the point?"
Just got home from my second concert in 4 nights with one of my favorite friends**. It was the first show of their tour. The kinks and minor errors weren't all worked out so it just made it all the more vulnerable and sweet. The tartness of the wine is still clinging to my palette.
I come home to a quiet house. I walk into one dark room to see sleeping children. There's a little brown-haired girl in one bed - her hand loosely wrapped around her bear, snoring ever so slightly. She's 4 now and tomorrow will want a recap on the show and will provide me with bits and pieces of her evening without me. In the crib nearby is a wee boy of 17 months. His covers have been kicked off and his bum is in the air. He was especially clingy before I left for the show tonight. Unusually clingy, wanting only me. Because I'm his mom.
I walk into another room and see a man sleeping in my bed. He's sleeping on my side of the bed (as he often does) until I get there so that I don't have to climb into a cold bed. Tomorrow we will have a full day of working together as a team. I don't think I ever could have imagined how good it could be, having a companion like him.
I'm not sure what I did to deserve all this.
I am humbled and I am grateful.
* The thing about being a Manitoban is that when gloriously warm November nights happen you're just so overwhelmingly grateful.
** The thing about having a friend like her (and I'm dreadfully lucky in that I have a few) is that it really kind of spoils you for other possible friendships. You might meet someone and think "hmm, maybe there's something?" but then you realize "yeah, but you're no X so really what's the point?"
posted by ccap at 11:24 PM
2 Comments:
You know what? I feel quite the same about you. And it was just the kind of concert I've been waiting for: simple, soul-healing music with a good friend beside me. Thanks again for a wonderful b-day present.
wonderful wonderful.
I love this feeling.
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