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Afternoon Dream |
| Written by Rick Robinson | |
| Friday, 16 November 2007 | |
The soft light breaks across the fall colors of the bedspread, slanting shafts with floating dust motes golden, drawing pillars of color from the late afternoon sun, the warm orange-gold glow finishing the late fall day. She stretches and shifts her shoulder lying atop the bed in the lazily warm room. I watch her eyelid flutter softly; knowing her gentle dream of horses brings a tiny curl smile for only a moment as peace reigns in her soul. Content, without questions… or demands.
A long journey to find this bliss, a granted peacedrop in the chaos. Another long day has drained by, spent finding comfort and help for the little old people, who leaving frightened from the hospital, she brings light to confusion, pillows and oxygen ready for their return to what matters most: home. To find she has such an occupation, a cherished task to be of service, leaves her glad she helps, she loves. She loves them, they feel it, recognizing in her smile benevolence, a sure hand without cost, trust shines from her glow: they know. She will help. They know.
How she helped me. Bringing true love to the bravado soldier, boasting and challenging, fearing fear of what a close look inside himself might bring. She looked into my soul, her love flowing through every word, every thought, through my mistrust, breaking down my wall. The barrier to the storms and fears of life now gone, with the true realization that another could with all a heart has wish only my happiness, in whatever form that takes. I give her everything I can, everything I am. Commitment to another embodied. And she wants me—a life we build together, ours, uniquely ours to make and move and laugh together trying to find the peace of a warm bed in a rural town as the sun goes down in November. And it is now.
Watching her dream, these are my thoughts. How lucky, how improbable, how perfect it all now is. Or was. Her breathing pauses, in her dream maybe she’s on a high jump on a chestnut stallion over a fence, maybe? As she held the breath an extra second, the push of her abdominal muscles and light grunt brought about the loudest fart ever to exit female cheeks. The blast shakes the room in a concussive impact as I double-double double take nearly snapping my neck and smacking my head on the metal rod headboard with a hard clang. I rose on one hand to see behind her, to check the blast pattern, to see if the dogs sleeping on the floor were blown into the closet or melted by the heat. No, they were merely rolled over a few times, and now with heads down quickly exiting to find oxygen, any oxygen.
Rising brought me directly into the reek, eyes watering, my kaf-kaf spluttering as I wheel off the mattress trailing the dogs to the next room trying to exit ahead of the cloud. Turning back for a last look at my princess, my gentle sleeping dove, her chin rises and with a piercing eye she slowly smiles at me, saying…”Payback, finally!! YES!! My one to your thousands of blasts, you gas-bag!!” she hurls in my direction. Her self-satisfied butt-trumpet now announced, I realize she is about to play another tune, and laughing. Beating a hasty retreat tripping over my feet through the doorway, I smile thinking, “Well it looks like we’re a duet from now on.”
Yeah, I do cut a few when I sleep. Sorry, honey.
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| Last Updated ( Monday, 19 November 2007 ) |
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