Today reminds of a day from four years ago, as the boys have made up now and all is well.
Ben was coming home from eighty-something days on the road. I had spoken with him through three airports and he had agreed to dump his stuff, shower and then come straight over for a meal and to say hello and then and only then he could go back to his horrid little filthy chaotic apartment and sleep for four days, as is customary when Ben would get off tour.
He knew I was dying to see him. I was so excited. I was waiting in the front porch. For forty-five minutes. Because showering? I know what Ben does in the shower. It's a thing of beauty to watch. His shampoo is multi-purpose.
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
There's his car! (He had a car back then. This was before his big Ford trucks came into our lives and never left.)
He's walking up the sidewalk. Oh my God! He looks awesome. Thin and tired but awesome. His hair is so long! Wow.
I open the door, smile plastered from ear to ear.
He walks up the steps, smiles briefly and says Hey, princess.
And he walks in straight past me to the living room where Jacob is reading in his chair and grabs his whole head, kissing him on the mouth. Jacob, never one to refuse affection, reached up and pulled Ben right into his lap where they proceeded to make out for several minutes until I started making very loud obnoxious protest noises and I think PJ choked on pure air. This was designed to make me laugh. I hate it when the boys are away. I make such a fuss when they come back. Not this kind of fuss, mind you.
It was probably the funniest, most surprising display I think I have ever seen. Or so I thought.
Ben repeated it this morning with Lochlan, after having left the house for an hour. Lochlan complied. In spades.
Ben has trumped himself, as if it were possible.
(And hot. Wow.)
I didn't protest. I think I could watch that any day.
