There are weeks where I side with Adam.
There are weeks full of briers and noxious weeds, where I spend the entire week wistfully looking over the fence at Eden and questioning Eve's judgement.
(What was she thinking?)
Two days ago David came home from work and when we hugged he quietly whispered into my neck, "When is it going to be a good day?"
It has been a long and trying week, full of to-do lists and have-to-go-tos. A week full of the usual stresses decorated with serious complications. A week of verbs, as I call it, with very few happy adjectives to smooth out the rough spots.
This morning as I was running out the door to drive Caleb's bacteria route (like a paper route with less pay and more risk), David met me in the hall.
"I miss you."
"I miss you too."
"Let's go away."
"No. Let's run away."
"Mom, we need to go."
"Don't worry. It's the weekend."
"I'm leaving town this weekend."
"Oh. I forgot."
"Mom!"
"Tonight, then. I'll see you tonight."
"Tonight."
A quick peck.
It has been five days of quick pecks. Our lips jabbing at each other as we go in and out of the doors, a little violence in lieu of affection.
Today I almost made a paper chain to count down the days until summer. (Can we make it that far?)
But I have a sore throat and a headache and I haven't been kissed properly in over a week, and the thought of all that cutting and pasting nearly did me in. I'm in no condition to count that high.
I think I will make summer come to me instead.
Tonight we will eat grilled chicken sandwiches and pasta salad and wear sunscreen and swimsuits under our clothes. We will stay up late and not look at the calendar once and not set the alarm for tomorrow and pretend
pretend
pretend
that we have nothing to do but be together
that we have no where to go but the beach
that our only concern is the sand transfer from the wet suits to the hot tub
that pecking is for birds and beginning typing students and has nothing to do with kissing
that summer lasts forever
and
that Adam could talk Eve into anything.