I sat up in the bed this morning watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful. Like a child. I have been thinking of asking her for some space as she sleeps over here every night these days. My heart melted seeing that person in the bed beside me. I decided to save that conversation for another day.
"Outside?" I said as Maggie's ears perked up.
I walked into the kitchen to open the backdoor. Maggie went bounding out and barking. Soon, the smell of percolating coffee was wafting throughout the house. I was standing at the stove cooking breakfast when I felt two arms wrap around me.
"Good morning," I said as I held her arms.
"Can I interest you in going back to sleep?" she asked.
"I'm starving," I said in reply. "You want your usual?"
Rosa has to have her eggs very well done, almost desiccated. I proceeded to crack three eggs into a frying pan and stirred them with a wooden spoon. We then sat quietly eating as we were both waking up.
I never had these moments when I was married. Rachel would curl up on the couch with an open box of dry cereal, munching. That was her breakfast. Soon, she would leave for work and I would spend the day alone. She would arrive home late at night only to just watch television and go to bed. I realize now we were married on paper only. We were two strangers living under the same roof with vastly different lives.
Rosa and I are different. We share the same rituals and routines. Each meal is a blessing after our shared homeless experiences when times could be lean. Warm, inviting beds are something not to be taken for granted when park benches were once the norm. The ritual of smoking our cigarillos on my porch becomes a moment of conversation and bonding. It is all very scary to me, but elating at the same time.
This morning started out with thoughts of, maybe we need to spend some time apart, and ended with a, "I love you," after breakfast on the porch. Here's to relationships and that convoluted emotion and feeling called love.