Memories Pt. 8

nights, at home and abroad.

Sometimes on the couch, but mostly in the bed. She falls asleep.

And I lie there and watch, listen and fall in love.

You have a love affair with sleep. Cat naps, bedtimes, resting your eyes; you could fall asleep anytime.

'I have to keep moving or I fall asleep' you would say. I never believed it, until it started happening.

Nights were the best. You would pretend to read, holding your book at a creditable angle with a firm hand, bundled up in cozy sheets. Your eyes would droop a little, flutter and eventally close. Your jaw would ease, the tension leaving your perfect face. Your mouth opening ever so slightly revealing the mouth guard you have to wear at night. Your breathing would soften and steady with an ever so slight whisper as it passed your lips.

The book would never waver. Held firm, I would have to pry it from your hands making sure not to lose your page.

Generally, you wouldn't stir. You would wander off to slumberland in peace. Contentedness written across your unfurrowed brow.

Eventually, I would start to nod off. Knowing an unwinnable cause, I would turn off the light, shimmy flat and lean in to you, slinking my arm over your tummy, pushing my chin into your nape. Knowing something was different, you would turn, unconscious or not, pushing yourself back into me, gently clutching my arm to insure I wouldn't get away and would keep you warm and protected through the night.

Barely stirring, I would hear it. Like a voice in a cave or an empty church. Soft and free, enveloping me, making me warm and instilling peace. Barely above the whisper of your breathing, clutching me tighter, you would purr, 'Muchacho...'

With one word, all my cares were gone.

It was rare that I would sleep first. It happened, but not very often.