Differences

It is 430am in a 500 year old house
in the Worcestershire countryside

I wake with a start because the Bee has been talking
in his sleep and has let out a rather alarming cry

Because we are staying at "Grannie & Granpa's"
where etiquette is more than acknowledged,
we are in single beds at opposite ends of what is dubbed
'the Green room', though for what reasons
I don't know, because it is certainly not green

I crawl out of my bed and squeezeinwiththeBee
this bed is barely 3 feet wide
I tell him that I need to go to the loo
but it is an inky black night
and the house is alive with its creaks and murmuring
I am scared

The Bee puts on the light, offers to come with
but I shrug him off
I am a big girl

I go;I return unscathed by the bogeyman
and the Bee wraps me up in his arms
and I hook my knees over his thighs to
keep from falling onto the floor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 hour later, I am still up
thinking, thinking
I test the waters, toss an
"I love you" out there into the blackness

"I love you too, baby" comes the quick answer

"What are you doing still up?"

'What are you doing up still?"

"I am thinking of fried chicken, what are you
thinking about?"

"Aliens. If they come and get me? Will you protect me?"

"Of course baby"

Then the Bee pretends that imaginary
aliens have come, he cowers and whimpers behind me
"Take her!" he whispers in urgent, mock horror
"Or take the boy next door! There's more of him!"
(referring to YM)

And then we fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Our stimulating night/early morning conversations
demonstrate just how different we are
(I mean hello? Fried Chicken? Aliens? 5 am?)
often just starts with an "I love you" tossed into
the night.

We wake up in the mornings,
(or I wake the Bee most likely)
"1 more hour" he'll say
"No, you told me to wake you early," I say

"Half an hour"
"Uh uh!"

"20 minutes?"
"10 and you got a deal"

"Ok, ten"

But we won't go back to sleep
we lie awake, tangled up
every morning we recount our dreams to each other
tell each other "You're weird!"

And then the Bee gets out of bed
leaving me cocooned in the warm nest that our
bodies have made
and tell me to get out of bed.

He will go to the bathroom
I will go in later, we stand side by side in front of the mirror
brushing our teeth
then we make coffee (depending on whose turn)
everyday I change the amount of sugar in his coffee
just to see if he notices (he doesn't)

Somedays we go down to the bakery to get bread
for breakfast, other days I slice yesterday's bread
pop them in the toaster, toss the slices at the
Bee for buttering as they come out
once I caught sight of the amount of butter the Bee
had spread on his toast
"Babe! Are you trying to get a heart attack?"
and the Bee, quick as lighting, turned his toast over
fixed a look of utter innocence on his face
and said "what are you talking about baby?

We have jam, cold meat
(the Bee can eat a loaf in a sitting)
somedays I make him eggs, bacon
we watch the news

then we clean up, and go about with our
respective tasks til lunchtime.

I keep telling myself I have nothing to blog
because everything I have to say encompasses the Bee
at the moment
then I think, hey, why should I hide it?

If this documents a part of my life
where I am happy, fulfilled
where I can lie in bed at 3 pm
reading, while the Bee's warm back is pressed
into my belly and my feet are tucked into
the crook of his knees to keep warm
(in outside clothes, no less)
and the afternoon sun is streaming over us,
when the only sounds are the soft rumble of his occasional
snores or the turning of my book's pages

when I look at him and think he's sleeping
only to find that he's looking at me thinking
I am reading...

how can I not write about this?How can I not
share it? If anything, it not only
tells others that it exists, but when
I write it, it sort of makes me reflect on it,
on how, just as easily, this could not exist
and that, just makes me cherish it all the more.