A Moment

I am trying to get something written. I’m down to the last minute and it needs to get done. So while the red potatoes are sizzling in the oil on the stove, I’m pecking away at the keyboard. Miles and Asher are cats and they are meowing and softly clawing at my ankles. They are kitties who need petting and cooing or the climbing up and nudging and poking and pulling will start. Ryan is calling from the living room asking, are both of us taking Asher to his appointment? and what’s the plan for Miles? I answer half and fluster {meow meow} and so I tell him we have to talk about it later. Then I’m hopping up and over the kitties to not burn the potatoes. I stir and then I’m throwing things in a bag and hugging and kissing and giving directions and running out the door.

Later, I get home and the house is quiet. Hushed, even. I stand in the silence and try to just be instead of thinking of the next things. Then I hear a sleepy cough cough cough and my heart does that little jump that comes with mothering. I wonder if his humidifier is on. I go to see and it is, so I stay and I kiss him and turn him on his side. I hope that makes the coughing stop. I look at him long and love his skin and soft sounds. And in that moment, I feel better.

I come back to the quiet kitchen and load the dishwasher. I wipe the counters and the graham cracker crumbs pull their tricks, missing my cupped-and-ready-to-catch-them hand, falling to the floor for my feet to avoid the crunch of them. I reach for the stack of always piling papers. I flip through, in case I’m missing something, like bills or any other Very Important Information. And I find I had missed something from another day, something that Miles made at school…

I laugh and laugh and I wonder what his teacher thought. Oh Miles, I think. You are something else. That is the scariest dentist I have ever met. And in that moment, I feel even better.

I head to bed and it’s late. Ryan is propped up on his pillow with crossword in hand. We talk about tired and I turn to sleep. He makes jokes that give me giggles and he won’t stop asking me to help him fill in the blanks. What are augmenting drugs, ten letters? How about a cultural character, what would that be? I mumble I don’t knows and with a laugh in his voice he says, I annoy you, don’t I?

Only sometimes, I say.

He laughs and asks for another answer to his crossword and I say, Sometimes is now. And we both laugh and the silly moment is good.

{This post is a part of Beth’s You Capture at I Should Be Folding Laundry}