Made It


Although a few times in the early part of the evening after hiking around Masonic Ave, I didn’t think I was going to.

The ankle was a talking and the walking was going slower and slower.

I ran into a concerned friend at the intersection of Waller and Masonic, “are you ok, do you need a ride?”

So sweet.

“I just watched you cross the street and you look like you are having trouble,” he continued when I shook off the offer.

“I am meeting some one, I will be ok, it just snuck up on me.”

And it had, although snuck, perhaps is not the correct word, I could feel it coming around 2:30 p.m. when I was getting tired and the thought of taking the boys to music class was now no longer a fun idea, but a chore.

A chore compounded by the fact that one of the boys tossed his brand new straw fedora hat overboard.

I had no idea where it was and had to curtail my trip through the Pan Handle Park to turn back around and find it.

Brand new hat.

Gone.

And the wind had started to pick up.

I got mad.

I began envisioning the bowing and scraping I was going to have to do and the hat replacement.  He’s a boisterous one and he doesn’t always like to wear the hats, they often go sailing.  I usually retrieve them pretty quick, but I wasn’t on my game and didn’t notice.

To cut myself a tiny modicum of slack, the double wide stroller is hard to see around and there are quite a few times that things get tossed and I have that prickling feeling that something went overboard.

I have lost one hat to this and the mom was cool, then another and I felt bad about it and replaced it out of my own pocket and I just about threw my own tantrum when I realized that here it was another day of having to replace a hat and boy, I don’t freaking feel like it.

I turned the stroller around and began the walk back.

I am still stunned that I found it.

I realized that the hat was gone when we had reached the playground, it had been tossed over five blocks back.  I found it at Cole and Page.

Thank God.

It really was not a big deal, but it indicated to me I was a little off my game.

I was tired.

I had not felt tired going into work.

In fact, I felt exhilarated, alive, awake and ready to take on the day.

I had a good a night and despite not wanting to stay up late, stay up late I did, but it was worth it and it was awful nice to be held.

I love sex.

Who doesn’t?

But a good cuddle after, being tightly held, lying with someone and falling asleep on them, oof, now that is satisfying.

I have had some amazing lovers, but I have not always had amazing sleep over companions.  It is beyond yummy to have both and the latter feels like an additional, unexpected gift to be given.

“I can go, you know, if you need to get some undisturbed sleep,” he said after.

“No, stay, I want you to stay,” I said and he pulled me in, tucked me under his chin and held me tight, I really fell asleep, lights still on, candles still lit.

Lights still on.

I haven’t mentioned that, but perhaps I should.

I love being in a place with my body and myself as a sexual person where I am ok with the lights on.

I am flawed, believe you me, this body has seen some things and done some things and some of the things that I have done to my body have not been kind.

I strive to be as nice to this beautiful body I have been given to walk around in as much as I can.  And I am ok having sex with the lights on.

At least with this partner.

I also like that when I told him when I was getting up and I waffled for a minute not wanting to admit that part of my early rising was so that I could do some morning reading and prayer and writing.

“I could skip the writing,” I said looking at the 6:30 a.m. alarm I was setting, I paused thinking, but I don’t want to.

He interrupted my thought before I could get it fully articulated, “no, don’t skip your morning routine, do your writing.”

And I did.

I woke up at 6:29 a.m.

One minute before the alarm was to sound, took a hot quick shower, dressed, made breakfast, got my hair dried and made coffee.

I did my bend down to the knee and get right with God.

And it was fucking awesome.

Yes, I said God and prayer and sex all in the same blog.

Get over it.

Then I had my oatmeal with banana and raw cocoa and cinnamon, nutmeg, and sea salt and fresh strawberries from the Farmers Market at Stanyan and Waller, drank a big cup of Stumptown Holler Mountain, and had a half hour to write.

Of course I was jazzed when I showed up at work.

But the jazziness wore off and I was tired and cranky and the ankle sore.

I made it, though.

I had to slow down.

But I made it.

I took it easy in music class and the room was hot, so the energy level was low for the boys and I wasn’t stressed and then it was time to go and it was ok, alright, I am almost through the day, through the week, and yes, I didn’t get as much sleep as I wanted, but I did get a lot of insight and a little knookie, and some good catch up time with a darling lady shortly thereafter the hobble along Masonic Avenue.

“Next time we get together, let’s make it a day I can sleep in the next ok?” I said with a smile this morning as he awoke and dressed and I finished up my three pages long hand.

Always a negotiation.

This human thing.

Being intimate is not the act itself, but how I am before and after.

Always the learning.

Always.

Which is better, in case you were wondering.

With overnight snuggling.

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