In an alternate PERFECT world, I wake up in my own bed wearing warm flannel pajamas instead of yesterday’s clothes.
I indulge in a hot shower, dress and then take a solitary long walk. Alone with my thoughts and my music. When I return, I pick up my best friend and we finish the walk at his speed; enjoying one another’s company.
Returning home, I have lunch (as does my best friend) and tuck in for an hour nap. His nap exceeds mine four-fold.
I sneak into my home office and choose my pleasure: reading or writing and settle in for a quiet afternoon. I’m only interrupted when nap time is broken up with the “walk requirement”. But I don’t mind because I can clear my head, check my email and grab a piece of fruit.
By sunset my love comes home from wherever it is he has been all day. I’ve no particular concern where that place may be; what he does. But he is warm and kind. Happy to see me instead of decisive. I am important and not secondary or tertiary to the telephone or his family-friends.
We spend time together but do not require constant chatter. There is no sense of walking on eggshells and the anger is a balloon that has sailed away long ago. Instead, there is laughter, quiet and warm passion.
Night falls without required calls and conversations that end up in walls being built where they certainly do not belong. I do my final dog walk unless he gets to it while I finish a project or fall asleep in front of the television.
Not an evening passes without saying goodnight to my lost and beloved. They are constantly with me despite the years; I don’t ever want to lose their spirit.
I change into night clothes and sleep where and when I choose. Nothing is done out of obligation and I am not disappointed (again) out of denial. I am loved.
Perfect, like a butterfly.