A Place to Write

The winter chill sucks the air out of my lungs and replaces it with daggers of ice.  And then he pulls me closer.

Don’t be cold my kitten.

I want to squeal.  The same gutteral squeal that escaped the first time he accidentally blurted out the three most powerful words in the English language, months ago.  This arm pulling me closer, to this body, has the power to replace my heart with the propellers of a helicopter.

This man is my future.  The days of orgasm-less nights praying he’d just hurry up already are over.  We tumble, and pant, tumble, and pant.  I’m always begging for more.  Please, again… and again… and again…  I look at him and I turn into a child pleading for a cookie before dinner… just one… or two… one more….  I see him in public, from a distance, and I swell with pride.  He loves me, that one.  I will follow him anywhere.

But life is not all sunshine and happiness and cuddling and eskimo kisses and pet names.

We break down.  One small harmless lie.  I fall apart.  Anything but that.  Anything but a lie.  Please, God, not again… not another neverending cycle of catching a little lie, and scolding, and watching the trust just crumble to the ground in big shapeless chunks.  And my strong, passionate, independent, cocky papa bear cries.  For the third time in his life.  We’re both hurting.  And we fall asleep in each other’s arms and hold each other even closer in the morning.  We work hard at making the next day a good one.

But as we continue to trudge through the following days, the wounds have not healed.

And so we go to our place.  Inside the fire-heated ale house our insecurities and shields of self-preservation mysteriously slough off.  We stare into each other’s eyes as the oaky wine gently pulls my shoulders down and releases the tension in my back.  He takes my hand.  We both look down at those hands together.  No one says a word, we’re both reminding ourselves of how very lucky we are to have found each other and how carefully we must guard it.  And we laugh.  And giggle.  And kiss.  And tumble into the folds of the cool linen in a candle lit room.