Blanket

I am surrounded by love. It is wrapped around me like a warm blanket, no gaps to let in the cold.

I had this realization just now, as I ambled back down the stairs to get the phone and a bag of cookies before returning to bed. Don't judge.

The contentment I felt thinking this was as close as I think I've ever been to the purity, the clarity of it all.

Mr. Handsome and Em are coming home late today, after three days in Toronto visiting family, leaving Dee and I here to fend for ourselves. Dee's been battling a stomach virus for awhile, but is on the mend, although he wasn't well enough to take the trip to Toronto, so he had to stick it out with me instead.

Although he is 12 years old and no longer a little child (as he reminds me almost daily), he is still my little boy, and always will be.

The weekend home with him was decidedly uneventful, with him slowly returning to eating food other than rice, applesauce, broth, and yogurt. Moody, yes. But nothing out of the ordinary.

However, Sunday night, he ended up in my bed, reading a French book about a unicorn. And I knew he would want to stay in bed with me until morning, because that is what always happens when Mr. Handsome goes out of town. It's a security thing. And, when he put the book away, took off his glasses, and put his head down on the pillow, I asked him what he thought he was doing, and told him he needed to go to his own bed. This was more of an affectionate rub than anything else. And he knew it.

Although Mr. Handsome and I really like our own space, having Dee beside me last night was quite heavenly. I secretly hoped he would end up in my bed, because I too miss that feeling of having a warm body beside me, someone who cares about me, loves me unconditionally, and deeply.

And when I made my way downstairs after Dee had fallen asleep, to retrieve the cookies and the phone, I noticed Gryphon lying at the foot of the stairs, fast asleep. Gryphon never sleeps there. His placement at the foot of the stairs spoke volumes. He wanted to be with us, but knew his place was downstairs. The closest he could get to us was at the bottom of the stairs, so that is where he lay. I knelt down beside him and pet his head, and he rubbed his face on the rug. Love.

Em made it clear as well when, before she left with her dad on Saturday morning, she came to me and told me in a soft voice that she wished I was also going to Toronto. "I do too, sweetie, but Dee isn't well," I told her, which I knew she knew, but I also knew she needed to hear it again. She tends to come into my room at night as she's going to bed, and sit on the bed, and talks. And I love it. Despite my fatigue at that time, I love listening to her. She is my girl, my only girl, and I love that she talks to me, that she wants to talk to me.

And Mr. Handsome, who sighs heavily anytime I ask him if he loves me (the never-ending game we play), calls me at least twice a day from the office, just to say hi, just to see how I'm feeling, what I'm doing. His days are busy, busier than mine have been for a long time, but he always takes the time.

I am completely wrapped in love, and it makes me smile.