Thoughts while I watch him eat. Or talk. Or laugh. Or do anything.

We spent this morning having brunch in bed with Schuyler and Daniel while plotting their sixth anniversary celebrating to be held later this month. Ben took up more room than anyone but he also had more ideas and we wound up deciding a surprise party would be better than something they actually plan, and so in between bites of fried potatoes and crispy bacon we passed folded notes back and forth all around our golden boys, who sat back and sipped their very good salt spring island coffee, feeding toast points to each other, getting crumbs all over their t-shirts and their sheets. August would have lost his mind. August doesn't believe in eating in bed. Well, not food anyway.

We got it all planned. 

Ben is good at planning fun things. 

He's been a magnet since yesterday afternoon. He gets stuck inside his head too, down in his warmly lit studio. I bring him his meals on a tray. Sometimes he stops and brings the tray right back upstairs to eat with everyone, sometimes he clears space for us to sit together and he eats quickly and gets back to work and sometimes, on the hardest evenings, he doesn't hear or see me when I come in, and so I leave the tray and when I come back to pick it up it's untouched. 

Then I cry. 

I package it all up and put it in the fridge. I try to remember he's a grown man, if he's hungry he'll eat. If he's really hungry he'll order pizza. If he's lonely he'll come find me. He'll eventually surface, but it gets hard to wait. I'm very happy when he puts down his guitars and comes to just hang out for a few days. It's kind of like old times except there's a lot of time spent in bed eating toast and planning fun things. 

Then I stop crying. 

I know I'm spoiled. You would be too if you had a Ben. Except that he's quite unique and there's only one of him. And he's mine. Still. Yes, I know I'm greedy too. 

:)