Yesterday afternoon, I fell asleep on the couch after making a week's worth of angel-hair pasta folded up in red sauce with kale. My apartment is too cold; we don't know how to transition into fall.
The boys woke me up, bursting in the door, yelling, "DID YOU REMEMBER TO PICK UP BATTLESTAR GALACTICA FROM THE LIBRARY? CLARA?"
"SHE DID! SHE WINS!"
Argh! I couldn't feel my toes! My jeans were stiff and cold! But they were so joyful around me for remembering our new adventure, Season 1, science-fiction, that I carefully unfolded and stood up to remember my legs and rub in my eyes. I love them, these boys, after all of these months. I think they're mine. They make so much noise, banging around, putting together plates of boy food, hot dogs and sandwich bricks, laughing at their own jokes, rubbing their bellies. They're still a different animal, they're still apart. But I want to stay with them, like family, like soup and bread, the way I want to stay with Theresa, forever.
Home, Home, Home.
1 comment:
frack! i wish i had some battlestar...starbuck is dreamy.
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