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Glory

We tumble into bed, not as lovers, but as family. Three of us. I push Matt against the pillows and then dive on top. Kisses on his neck, his cheeks, his brows. Our young daughter squeals in delight and climbs over my shoulders, over my head to kiss his forehead. Get Daddy! Get Daddy!

Matt roars deep and loud. Kiomye and I scream and retreat to the bottom of the bed, huddling and giggling. Matt rises up on his knees, arms high above his head. Save me, mommy! I hold Kiomye tight and we laugh madly when Matt’s hands come down on us, tickling our sides and our bellies.

In the afternoon, we sit in the grass by the shore of Lake Washington. Our ransacked picnic basket lays tipped to our right. We wrap arms around knees and watch the other families play and chat around us, the boats passing, the planes over head looping and diving. Kiomye’s heavy lashes flicker and she snuggles against my side, one hand reaching over to rest on Matt’s thigh. We are quiet in the midst of the cacophony. I feel a breeze on my neck and turn to catch Matt’s circled lips. He blows cool breathes onto my face. We smile.

posted by Scribbler @ Saturday, August 14, 2004