Get Some Rest!


Kiss my ass lady.

Or even better.

“Kiss my grits!”

Ugh.

Rest.

What the hell is that?

Who wants rest when there are papers to write and books to be read and articles screaming for my attention and readers that haven’t been cracked in weeks, or work to be done.

The boys smothered me with hugs before I left tonight.

I’m on the new nanny schedule.

I’m working 35 hours a week–except every third week when I will work 28 hours (the weekends I’m in school, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday)–1p.m. until 8p.m.

The boys get done with school between 2:15 p.m. for the little guy who is just starting pre-school and 2:45p.m. for the big guy who is in kindergarten.

I get to work, do all the breakfast dishes, sort out the laundry, make the boys beds, put away the toys, legos, dump trucks, airplanes, baseballs, books, and effluvia of the morning.

I check in with the mom, write down anything that needs to be bought: today I went to Lucca Ravioli, the corner market, and the Farmers Market on Barlett and 22nd streets.

I make the boys dinner plates in advance, sort out snacks for after school pick up and possible play dates.

I pet the dog and keep her water bowl full.

I water plants, make note of deliveries, sort out toys that don’t work anymore, sort out books, tidy, and prep for dinner.

Tonight was roast chicken, brown rice, carrot sticks, and fruit salad for the boys.

I de-boned one roast chicken and also made chicken salad for sandwiches for the family for over the weekend.

The boys arrive and are passed off to me around the 3 o’clock hour.

We either go out for adventures or play in the back yard.

Today was the market and that is a big adventure–samples from Dave Hale, best apples around, samples from JP–an Italian guy with cheese spreads that the boys go nuts over (and then have tremendous gassy farts from, oh the joys of garlic cheese spread), samples from the Twin Girls orchards and of course lots and lots of strawberries from the Tomales Bay Farm–today we got half a flat.

It was a prep day and a laundry day and get the family ready for me being away day.

But a day to rest?

Ha.

When I received the schedule for the weekend for school I did not faint or vomit, I just took it patiently in stride.

Of course.

I was a little distracted.

I was pondering the sacred and the profane.

The nameless and the secret.

The words in between the melody and the chorus.

That small space, that thimble full of soul and heart and just there, that tiny ache for someone who lingers between the sunlight in the trees and the water reflection of stars over head.

A photograph of a lost earring.

Cinderella’s slipper.

It glowed on the screen of my phone and while I unloaded the dishes from the dishwasher and confirmed with the mother to pick up pesto and cheese tortellini from Lucca Ravioli, I would glance at the text on my phone and smile.

I grinned a silly grin and thought of his face.

“I like it when you look at me while my eyes are closed,” he said, mouth curving up in a smile, eyelids closed over the soft green of his eyes.

I traced his eyebrows with my fingers and brushed the tops of his cheekbones with the pad of my thumb, sweeping through the stubble and tracing the outline of his face onto my memory.

Etched there still and quiet, beautiful and gentle, softness and gentility, reposed with delight.

I can see it now in my mind’s eye.

I can see him.

And even though the love bites have faded from my collar bones, I can still feel his mouth there and desire will sweep through me and distract me from the mundane and simple tasks that I did today.

Or from thinking too heavily about the school hours and the papers and books, the reading I am behind on.

I would not trade those days and hours of his company for time to have been more prepared for my classes.

I would not trade those kisses for a good school girls’ piety for being prepared.

My heart, my body, my being needed that affection.

“I think we are both just starved for attention,” he said as he cupped my breasts again, his hands always on my body, cradling me, kneading my skin, running through my hair (such dusty hair!), or brushing the side of my face, trailing along my jawbone and sliding down my neck.

I can feel his hands just there, a ghosting touch, a magic movement over my skin.

Time melts.

Effortless and fluid.

I cannot grasp it and I wonder, has it really been less than a week.

Tomorrow is Friday.

I met him last Friday.

The days we were together had their own song and movement.

The days we have been apart, the same sort of melting and flowering.

I got through the day.

I did the deal.

I helped the family.

I was of service and I loved the boys hard.

I did what I could to prepare myself for tomorrow and the first day of classes.

I reviewed material and wrote a reflection paper for my Therapeutic Communications course.

I packed my messenger bag.

I set my alarm clock.

But get some rest?

I don’t know how.

I will try.

I will finish this blog.

I will think about the space between the here and the now and let in the magic where ever it choses to come.

And I will be grateful that I am busy and do not have to obsessively think about when I will see him again.

I will see him when I see him.

In the meantime there are books to read and classes to attend to.

And should I smile secret and lascivious.

To myself.

At times.

Well.

There are worst ways to get through the day.

Advertisements

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: