Ten Months Later

I looked at the clock at around 9:40 am. We should probably get up soon. Almost two hours later, we did. In sharp contrast to shopaholics or families with kids, Boxing Day for Kelly and me was a day with no rules. Nowhere to be, nothing that absolutely needs doing. Nothing. The first such day in what seemed like months.

We had gone to bed at our normal hour and so at 7:30 am I awoke feeling ready to go. I snuggled up to Kelly and realizing I had awakened her, enquired as to whether or not she was wishing to get up soon. Not really. And so I drifted off again. And on it went, for the next four hours or so, each of us knowing there was nothing requiring our presence, and that our favourite place to be today was right there in each others arms.

Drifting in and out of REM state, I had several very bizarre dreams. There were a lot of cats running around, old friends, a tiny elevator, clowns, puppeteers, employees and clients, spoons, cleaning ladies, airplanes and hotels. At one point I gave someone a wet dishrag as a gift, not even wrapped, I just handed it to them. And through all of it, I was changing from able bodied, to using a wheelchair, and all levels of ability in between. Not to mention every state of dress from black tie to completely naked. Oh and did I mention the naked woman that turned INTO a cat?  Yeah, very strange dreams.  Too much food I suppose, or too much sleep.

When I did awaken from time to time and I lay there with Kelly in the darkness, I couldn’t help but smile at how blessed I am. I don’t mean the Christmas gifts, although Santa was very good to me.

At this time last year, I was single. Having been in and out of a few relationships, one that left me with a whole lot of hurt several years back, I was starting to lose faith in the old “there’s someone out there for everyone” theory that friends are so quick to point out when you’re down.  I was starting to give up. To give in. To accept that I was likely going to be alone.  And as often happens when you’re looking for your lost set of keys, you find them when you stop looking. We bumped into each other in a chat room. I was honestly there just to chat with friends. And there she was.

Ten months later, she is here, in my arms the morning after a wonderful Christmas with my family. Her skin smells a little like rose petals. The ladies at the store put them in the box when I bought her the pyjamas with little squirrels on them. I pull her a little closer to me and stroke her arm. She drifts into consciousness for a moment, snuggling in tighter. “I love you” she whispers before drifting off again. I listen to her breathing as she settles back into peaceful sleep. I never knew it could be like this.