Five quiet minutes before the fray begins.
The weekend was wonderful, the surprise party a success, there are still tears in his eyes.
Saturday's lazy chores and a visit to princess' art show at the Westmount art fair, wandering around furniture stores hand in hand with the boy and I finally have a chopping knife, but haven't had the time to use it yet.
There are fresh tomatoes in my fridge, a little cilantro and a red lentil dahl is imminent.
I just need time to stop moving, maybe even time to writre.
I'm reading a new book, kinda surprised that I had never discovered Tim Robbins before. His writing seems so real but somehow I'm half convinced that he must be using a pen name, it feels like a woman's writing, all descriptions of exotic clothing and exotic places.
I like exotic things, women with crazy scarves in their hair, and yet the tuna casserole that he cooked on Sunday was staggeringly close to comfort food.
Monday night we discovered a bring-your-own-wine bistro, we cabbed it there, two bottles of fine bordeaux and roquefort snails and filet mignons with perfect vegetables and a slice of cheesecake that wasn't sickly sweet.
We wandered the streets of the plateau afterwards, drunker than we'd been in a long time, neither of us needing to drive home, stopping in alleyways to steal kisses and gaze wonderingly at each other.
Amazed that we've found each other, still confused that any of it makes sense.
I miss people, though, I miss kaff and cf and Steven and princess and my boys and Bobby and Andy and Ben the paladdin, a million plans to make time to see them, but I'm leaving for New Orleans in three days and I don't have any clean underwear.
I keep whispering "soon, soon" to the light breeze that kisses my face as I step out to face the morning.
I keep whispering "soon, soon" as I check the lock on my beat-up car door before dragging my tired ass up the stairs.
Soon, soon... But I don't even know what it is that will happen soon.
Soon I'll figure it out.