The morning is always one of my more favorite times of the day; waking up next to a person just somehow makes sense. It’s cold, the window was open, but it only made us metrically move closer – this is life – my life. Originally, I woke up to use the restroom; I was told that it’s a necessity after a night of keeping warm. “Brrrr…” I said to myself as I scuffled to the bathroom. Her hand slid across the sheet, instantly noticing the difference of temperatures, it’s interesting how quickly cotton sheets cool down, but she didn’t wake up, only curled up, safe like, scrunching the eight inches of comforter that remained on my side of the bed. I don’t want to say I sat there and watched this happen, but I did, and I must say that deep down, “that makes me happy.”
I knew that all I wanted to do was get back in bed, snuggle up and fill the cold cotton divot, but it’s been awhile since I’ve treated her to breakfast in bed. Honestly, a part of the reason was because she didn’t want crumbs in the bed, but also because even though we’re together much more than either of us could have expected, neither wants to leave. It’s probably bad, unhealthy and ignores every human instinct to nourish, but being with her in the vacuum of time and space we existed in quieted and quelled my stormy nature. I admit that I am particularly bad at exiting moments of happiness, but not this time, waffles will be made, eggs will be whipped and juice will be squeezed. It’s about time.
So I let go of the doorknob, hesitantly, used the restroom and shuffled my way to the kitchen. You know what’s funny? When you’re trying to be quiet as can be, but need to move things made of glass, and no matter how gentle and slow you try to move, you still end up banging it against something that creates a noise louder than normal. Walking over to the bedroom door, I started to close it when I heard the whoosh of the down comforter squishing together, “What are you doing? Making all that noise, you trying to get me up?” she said. “No, apparently making waffles requires at least four bowls to be banged, three eggs to be cracked, two drops of the vanilla extract and a joyous partridge in the avocado tree.” It’s the morning, not my best work. “I don’t even know what to say sometimes, like, do you just sit around thinking of bad jokes?”
She said this with a Parmesan grin snaking across her cracked lips. Oh, how I look forward to her morning make up. Disheveled hair, torn pajama shirt half way twisted to the side, minty breath; as if she brushes her teeth in her sleep, warm but inviting breath, and a glow – oh that glow. I don’t mean to look as much as I do; actually, I do mean to do it, I impulsively She doesn’t wear much make-up, conform to media guidelines of acceptable beauty, or even entertain the idea of masking herself – she doesn’t hide from the world. I love it. It’s as though in the very moment I see this side of her, every wish I had at one point in my life has been fulfilled. “Crap!” The waffles! This is why we don’t eat as much as we should and could.
I threw my head around the corner and exclaimed, “Breakfast dummy! You want to eat it in bed?” She replied hastily, “What?!” with that diabetic and infective giggle. Smiling and chuckling like a kid, “So, bed it is, I’ll grab the tray.” “What tray? We don’t have a…” but before she could finish her sentence I jumped onto the bed and laid across her, “Breakfast is served!”
This is an abusive relationship, but only because she laughed when the loud thud broke the silence. I hit my head on the wall as she wriggled around in bed, I’m incredibly glad I didn’t actually bring the breakfast with me. It would have been messy, and orange juice has a stealthy way of embedding stickiness in places that it shouldn’t have been. Rolling off and placing myself on the remaining two inches of comforter, I put my hand on the small of her back and pulled her in close, placed my lips on hers and closed my eyes. After a quick peck, I felt a sudden sensation of moisture on my nose, followed by her literally jumping out of bed, but not before she could maniacally hit me and gently laugh as she ran out to the kitchen. “You licked my nose?” I yelled out because she was laughing so hard that I wasn’t sure she’d hear me. “Yup! You’re gross and breakfast will get cold so it made sense.” This shouldn’t work, but it does. There’s nothing better than getting to be yourself. Phenomenal.
As I lay there, hands behind my head, absorbing the fried air and peace that had escaped my grasp for so many years, she came back into the room and burrowed back into my arms. “You know, I would never ask you to be anyone but yourself right?” I said quietly. “Of course not, who else would I be anyways?” Always with a quick response, it was always her unique combination of intelligence and smarts that drew me to her. “I know, just wanted to say it. You know how I feel about dangling thoughts…” Now, I never knew how long it would last, I’m not clairvoyant and experience would always remind me that when things lean in one direction, that there would always be an equal and opposite force, so I knew better. “You’re super mooshy today, is that why you made breakfast?”
-“Nope, I did it because it gave me a reason to admire life. Raw and unfettered,”
I’ve always appreciated the small things, always appreciated seeing the details, always thankful for closeness. It could have been easy for me to be cynical, which in the wide search for a place in this infinite and ever-expanding universe, the knowledge that a bond could be formed that would continuously surprise me was not only possible, but could be attained. I never felt deserving of great, but I worked damn hard to be sure that when it did rest in front of me, that I didn’t scare it off.
She never left so it was the least I could do for her, and even when we were apart, it never felt that way. At first, I admit that it was eerie, I wasn’t used to not desiring, to being without longing, looking forward to going to sleep and definitely not having to try. It was an incredible feeling that I had to suppress, because over-corrections exist and so I tempered my excitement. Like a car window, it could crack and bend, but it would never shatter, and that last part was the most important revelation I could ever have. Now, I’m not completely naïve, I know that things change, but I was changing, no longer fighting myself on trivial matters, I was moving with the river.
We would lie there all day, talking and laughing, only getting up to use the bathroom and grab some snacks. She’d say randomly, “You know, we really should get up and go outside.” “I know. At some point, maybe we’ll go walk around the park and grab a drink after.” Quietly, she turned her head to face mine, with only a whisker and medium breath between us. “That would be nice.” Indeed this lazy day was exactly what we needed; the story that would never be told was precisely why I concerned myself with swinging the pendulum too far in the other direction. For a brief moment in my life, I had in my hands exactly what I had craved when I was young, to live without existence.