I’ve recently invited my long term male friend to come and live with me. He works, while I live the gentler life of a disabled person, with the needs for sleep and aggressive self-care that involves.
Unlike my former husband, who made every departure an event that left me wide awake in the dawn, my new fellah creeps out more silently than a whisper of air. I hear his alarm, and no more. I’m unused to such consideration. It’s lovely.
This morning, it’s my turn to creep out of bed early, heading as I am to day 3 of this course. My legs are more spastic than usual after sitting for two straight days, so I’m stumbling a bit, trying to be as silent as he is, to let him sleep.
What I want to do us turn on some loud, energizing rock and roll, in the hope my brain cells will wake up.
Wouldn’t be fair. So I’ll wait until the car ride, the torque of noise and a large coffee and the wind through the window.
Meanwhile I stare blearily at the overly cheerful shower curtain, waiting for my eyes to silently clear.
Shhhhhh. He’s sleeping.

20121103-072604.jpg

2 thoughts on “Sharing a space

  1. If I said that I wasn’t super excited for a time in my life when I could co-habit with a guy, I would be a bit fat liar. The thought of sharing my life with my boyfriend really makes me happy. I am, however, a long way off. 😦

    Hello from a fellow NaBloPoMo-er!

    Like

Comments are now closed.