Pleasant. Pleasure. The end of the day. Warm bed, soft pillow, puffy blanket, Drop Dead Diva. My laptop and a game of Words with Friends. But only if the letters are good. Sometimes all you get are vowels–all 1 point letters and a random Q. Then the game is frustrating and not at all fun. Or you play with someone who only plays 3 letter words that somehow all earn 37 points. Or more. That’s not fun either. That’s when the laptop is snapped shut. Or move to a new window, a different tab.
I can hear the murmur of my husband’s voice through the floorboards. Busy working in his office. Music playing and keyboard clacking.
An occasional sigh or cough from the room down the hall. My door is always ajar, just in case. Semi-alert is how I think of it. One ear listening. One eye always watching. I hear skin scratching against sheets as one tosses and the other turns. Can tell their distinct sounds even in sleep. Each so different. A sigh in pleasant dreams and an audible shudder in bad. Three little bugs snug in their rugs.
It smells like sleep and boy in here. Even down the hall. I think houses full of girls must smell sweet and fruity like Lip Smackers and strawberry gum. Here, my perfume and soap don’t stand a chance. I can almost see the cloud of rosy girliness clinging to a corner of the room trying to fight off the pigpen-like dust of boy odors. “Just a little room for me,” it cries before being swallowed up by the gray fog of boy.
I like the smell. It is home. The boys are home. Everyone is settled in for the night. The occasional coyote howl reminds me we are safe tonight. At this moment, all is good and warm and safe.
It is fleeting. I am fighting off sleep to enjoy the relaxation of mindless television and an occasional tweet. Sleep will come quick and then it will be tomorrow. So fast. Too soon. Holding on for a little more.
The sounds of night signal that the day is behind me. It doesn’t matter how the meeting with that client went. It went fine. I guess. And tomorrow I have to go in early for a call. Or maybe that’s the next day. I’m not sure. For now, I am in my bed, my cocoon, in my room enveloped in all the goodness and beauty of home.
This blog post was written as part of Just Write with Heather of the EO and The Extraordinary Ordinary, a Tuesday exercise in free writing.
