Wanting What I Have

It's getting dark out and J and I are retiring for the night in the same fashion that we have for the last year or so we've been together; we climb into bed and put on an episode of some television show we're addicted to.

A breeze leads the gauzy curtains in a dance and the star mobile hanging from the ceiling turns slowly in circles.

The sheets are cool against my skin and soft on my bare feet; they feel like spring air on a perfect day - the kind where the air is elusive and so well matched to the temperature of my skin that I just don't notice it's there until the wind reminds me.

The cats hop onto the bed and settle into their favorite places.

Emily curls up at my feet, facing the door like a little guardian gargoyle. Her face is so flat that from the side, all I can see of her face is the glassy orb of her right eye. She turns to me and lazily winks at me. I hear this is a sign of trust and love. I blink back.

Echo leaps gracefully over my body to the narrow space between me and J. She lowers her body slowly to the bed and begins her usual grooming routine, starting with her little bulgy tummy. The pink pads of her feet match her tiny pink nose. I interrupt her grooming by stroking the back of her head. She leans back and pushes into my hand, purring loudly. I curl up around her, putting my head on J's belly. The television lulls me to sleep and I sleep soundly; a solid, warm human body next to me and two tiny goddesses at my side.