(no subject)
Something shifted in my brain right then, when I was standing over the bed, winedrunk and loose-limbed, staring at his beautiful face in the glow from the window. It clicked that sometimes, my life is so good that it hurts. I could feel the rug burn stinging my knees as I swayed, my hair dripping and my clothes soaked through. It was one of those moments, the important kind, a night filled with them. Building forts of sheets and clothespins and boxes, to face the open window and see the lightning flash bright over us, in awe. To huddle close under blankets, holding sticky wine glasses and popcorn, watching sad, heartbreaking things that make us hurt in a great way. Our Mary watching over us, just in case we need her. Lying on the porch, giving in to the torrent of rain, even though it was so cold. A hideaway full of whispers and bursts of uncontrolled laughter. It's that I get to end my night full of those important moments that I'll tell my kids about one day when I'm older by holding him in my long arms, he unconsciously sinks in, second nature. I just feel luckier than I deserve.
