Sounds of Christmas

"W, if I have to tell you one more time that you are not allowed to use clay-mores on your daughter, you are so done playing MW3!"
Some things are so much more fun nagging about.
I love that my husband and our 12 year old daughter bond over killing others (really, I do!)
When he first came home after boot, he taught her (at the time she was 5) kill-kill moves.  Which is all fun and games until I get called to the preschool office...........
"We are very concerned about M's behavior.  Today, she punched a little girl in the stomach and knocked her down."
Me, "M, Why would you think it was ok to punch anyone?"
M, "Well, I told her twice........... I didn't want to play."
As I look at my beautiful child, I struggle with the urge to respond, 'Well, she told her twice.  What did you expect her to do?'
What I did was to ground her and my husband to M's room until they had time to discuss the where's and when's of kill-kill moves for preschoolers.
Christmas is so much more fun with the inappropriate humor of the Corp.
It was a good holiday!
Semper Fi

"I don't know, I don't really think about it"

I have shingles.  I have been sick for the past 5 days.  Yesterday, I awoke with a sinus infection....... as if I didn't feel badly enough already.
I awoke at six this morning because even with the humidifier on, I still couldn't breath.  I got up and took Dayquil because we are out of Nyquil.  I got back into bed, careful not to wake him.  But I couldn't sleep, so I lay still  pretending to.  Time past slowly and my mind wandered to a few weeks back:

     We lie next to each other as the the light from the early dawn seeks refuge from the coming day through the blinds and the plum colored curtains. I can hear his soft, rhythmic breathing.  On this particular morning, I am feeling............... good.  Good about us.  Good about my love for him.   Positive that that love is reciprocated.  These days are rare, but they do occur.  My thoughts are not about doubt or fear.  They are not about betrayal or rejection.  These are raw, unabridged emotions.  This is how I used to think about him.  About us.  Before.  Before 9/11.  Before the Corp.  Before Iraq.  Before he thought differently about me.  When he still thought about me.
     I want to be closer to him.  Ok, so fear is still a part of this.  Fear of rejection.  But he is asleep and less likely to pull away.  Slowly, I entwine my feet with his.  Careful not to tickle him.  He is so ticklish.  I slide my leg between his and wrap my arm around his chest.  He does not stir. I am not rejected.  I feel, almost welcomed.  An involuntary smile creeps across my lips.  For awhile I just hold him.  Content to be this close.  


"Are you awake?"  I startle to hear his voice.
"Yeah.  Did I wake you?"
"No.  I got up earlier to get a drink and haven't been back to sleep."
His voice is jovial and makes me smile in spite of my present misery.
He says its cold and we should turn the fan off.  I ask him if he would like to watch a movie, maybe have some hot tea.  He agrees but jokes about who will be the one to brave the arctic temps on the other side of the covers.  He is funniest first thing in the morning, he always has been.  He teases about making me do all of it so he can stay in bed.  And I attempt to make him feel badly for not taking better care of his sick wife.  There is a long pause.  A lull in the conversation, as if we are both waiting to see who will get out of bed first.
"Can I ask you a random question?"

      I slide my hand down his chest, past his belly.


"Sure, I guess."

      He is hard.  Morning wood.  The phrase makes me smile though I tell myself it is not in response to  my touch, I cannot make myself believe this.  I need to believe it is me.


I think about this for only a second, as I know if I wait too long, I will lose the courage to follow through.

      He feels so good.


"Do you not touch me because you feel you do not have the right or because you do not want to?  Do you not want me?

      So hard.


He laughs.
"That is random."

       He does not pull away from me............ so I pull myself closer and my grip becomes more firm.


"I know but I don't touch you because I think you don't want me to.  I don't want to assume you just don't want me.  I need to know why."

         He smells so good.  The feel of his skin next to mine.  Its like electricity.  I feel alive.  


"Sooooooo, you want to make tea and I will find us a movie?"

       So alive.  It has been so long.  Holding him in my hand, it feels so good.  I allow myself to think of the possibilities.  So many possibilities.
  
I laugh.  His response is inappropriate but it's so him and it really is funny even if it's not what I need to hear.

       I want him so badly.  Not just to sit next to him on couch watching TV.  Not just holding his hand or hugging him.  I want him.  I need him.  All of him. I need him to want me.......


"Really.  I need to know."

        I need to know that I am worthy.  I need to feel loved.  Not just hear the words but to feel them.  Feel them flow through his finger tips to my bare skin.  Feel that his love for me is real.  Tangible.  


"I don't know, I don't really think about it."

        He turns away from me.  He doesn't push my hand away, nothing that obvious.  Just rolls his body away from mine.  From my touch.  From my love.  From my need.


Sometimes I wonder if being like him would be a blessing or a curse.  But I do know that it wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't think about it.  Really didn't think about it.  If I didn't need him or the love he withholds.  Or is incapable of giving.

Amazing

Someone close to me shared this and it moved me.  I want others to see it.

http://ohpenelopephotography.blogspot.com/