I am in an absolutely sweet mood today, sunshine and kittens tumbling in my mind, hips swaying to the soft tones of “I Only Have Eyes For You” and “Chances Are”, lips bruised from this morning, and last night, and the night before…

Morning sunlight and breezes spill into my windows, bathing the whole house in a warm glow. My neighbor downstairs is cooking her daily mystery dish, smelling faintly of cinnamon and vinegar, comforting in a weirdly pleasant way.

Usually at this time of day on a Friday morning, I am still in bed, and not alone. A second shift lineman, he works 10am-7pm, and does not have to leave until 0900. Our routine consists of getting up at 0700, having coffee and a chat on the back patio. Yogurt and berries slake our hunger, and he gets out the vitamins while I fill the water bottles. The best of intentions are ours, and one if not both of us are usually dressed by this time. Our collective undoing is always a kiss… just one kiss.

One of us leans in, smiling, and for some reason, that particular kiss makes all reason fall away, makes us unable to care about the minutes melting away, makes our clothes fall off… then at 0855, the alarm always set drags us away from one another amidst laughter and sweaty hugs. Hastily grabbed work jeans and reflective shirt are pulled on as he trips around the bedroom, looking for the always missing sock, and I race into the kitchen, filling his to go mug with French Press coffee, our only luxury to date.

I follow him out the door, traipsing down the steps on tippy toes behind him like a small puppy. His truck is so tall, an industrial Ford F-450, that I cannot reach up for a kiss even when he leans out the window for me… laughing, he opens the door and I hop up for a last kiss and hug, then scramble down as he zips away for another day.

Today he had errands at the dmv, registering the car he got for his son, and paying taxes as well. So we were good, responsible, and managed to get him out the door in one piece at 0700. =)

Showered and warm, I opened my closet to grab a favorite Cowboys t-shirt (what else?) and my hand brushed his work clothes hanging there. His jeans, fraying at the pockets from all the sockets he carries, and his reflective shirt, silky-scritchy bands of grey over impossibly neon green. To their right are my dressy summer shirts, satin and lace, soft colors in a modest rainbow. The sight of all that femininity next to his manly things brought a smile as big as the sun to my still sleepy face. Heading to my dresser for underthings, I open the top drawer and there on the right is a small pile of his briefs and work socks, stained with grease. How does a man who wears tall work boots manage to get grease on his socks ?! One of life’s great mysteries…

I could not resist snapping a few photos… and now I have proof. Proof of the solidity, the realness and weight of what we are making. Proof that he is here half the week, enough nights to necessitate having clothing here. Proof that there is a man in my den, a fact that still amazes me with the happiness it brings to the very depths of the center of me.

He rinses out his dishes without ever having been asked, takes out the trash when it is full. He brushes my bangs from my brow to find a spot to kiss, and then looks down at me smiling that soft, just for me smile of his, with dimples flashing and promises shining behind his bright eyes.

We have 3 nights a week together, and every other Monday morning until summer break. Almost half the week, and yet it already feels like not enough. There are small reminders of him all over the house, from the toothbrush in the bathroom to the monogrammed coffee mug in the cabinet. The sweet tea in the fridge, razor in the shower, and now, clothing. This is no small thing for me, and it does not escape me that while I wanted my freedom so desperately, I now can see time to come with someone in my home.

Proof… that my desires are evolving. I have lived here almost a year now, and as I look around my pretty little home in The Bog Woods, I see so much change, so much possibility, so much new and undiscovered. I had happiness when I first came here, yes. But nervousness as well, trepidation, and no small amount of uncertainty. Now as I gaze at this home of my own creating, this place that soothes me, comforts me, I see so much more that the sum of it’s parts. I see a future; holidays and winter nights, springs to come, gatherings and quiet nights with those I love. Home…

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PS – yes, that is a small cat figurine on my spotted sox. Foxling dubbed it my “multipurpose cat accessory”, or MCA. It can be found in any manner of places, but it never strays far…


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