Jack's Hug
You aren't speaking to me. Apart from asking where the keys are, have I put a nappy in the bag.
After reviewing all my potential transgressions every time that puppy dog look comes my way, I've come up blank.
"What's up?"
Maybe the direct approach will work.
"Nothing."
The dull inflection and another of those looks give the lie to that one.
I continue through the Saturday morning routine. At least getting the kids ready is a distraction, and they're all full of anticipation of the junk food lunch their dad will treat them to.
"Gimme a hug." I collar the 6 year old.
Wrapped tightly around me, he devotes his whole energy to me.
"Mmm - that's nice." He finishes with a kiss and flashes that grin.
"Thanks Jack, I needed that."
Maybe after we drop the kids off I might find out what's on her mind. For now I stick to the routine and the warmth of Jack's hug.
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The ritual post drop off coffee has been consumed in silence. If it wasn't for George's cheery banter as he brought us our flat white and latte I'd be wondering if I had gone deaf.
She's buried in the racing pages. I've had enough of the atmosphere.
"I'm just going next door for a minute."
The little bookshop always is a good escape.
"I had a dream last night."
"Sorry?"
Her eyes were dangerously shiny.
"I had a dream last night that you were with someone else and I saw you and you laughed and then you kissed her in front of me."
The wheels were turning slowly, but thanks to the coffee they were gripping.
"Is that why you're a bit down today?"
As she nodded I wrapped her in my version of her son's hug.
"Well at least you do know I'd never do that."
She nodded against my shoulder, then I could feel her become conscious of our surroundings. I let her go and watched Jack's hug do its work.
Sleeping Dogs
I'd be perfectly justified in waking them up. Washing to do, tomatos to plant, shopping to put away.
Especially since they have fairly firm ideas on when i should arise. Complaing about lazy people who sleep through their alarms from the foot of the bed. Wrestling in the hallway and throwing each other against the walls in some ancient Thai form of kung fu.
But they just look so sweet here on the couch. Theo's snoring gently. They're wrapped around each other in brotherly love, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Yeah sure I could wake them. But not just yet.
Everyday Ballet
I step forward into the space he's just vacated. He takes two quick steps to the left, one back, slides to the right as I follow each of his movements.
A moment of stillness. The choreographer's dramatic pause.
The milk returns to the fridge in the last pirouette of our pas de deux. We take our tea and return to work.
Corporate Success
I saw your doppleganger on the street today. Wearing your idealism with your thai pants you walked along the golden mile, avoiding pinstripes & briefbags.
I hope you don't run into yourself down there. Choke on your foccacia midway through a cynical pronouncement.
Or perhaps frown past your latte like you do when we encounter each other.
No - I don't think you'd recognise your other self any more than you want to recognise me.
An introduction - I am a long term (well 6 months or so) blogger who's addicted.
A chance comment about not being able to write a novel on a Palm PDA reminded me that I have had some story ideas floating around for some time.
My writing may be lame, but it's free.
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Very short short stories.
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