This morning I brought up breakfast in bed for Lochlan. He's done it for me, I do it a little differently. Hot chocolate, fried potatoes, sausages, soft boiled eggs and toasted bagels with honey. Tin plates and mugs, camping forks and flannel napkins with tea lights on the tray to make it rustic and appealing. He woke up slowly with a smile on his face from where he was probably dreaming about fire. It's like having married Ghostrider, except that he has a face, and such a beautiful, sleepy one at that.
What's this, Peanut? Is there enough for both of us?
Of course. I settle back in beside him, cross-legged in my pajamas so we can eat. I was starving but I wanted to do something special for him and also avoid any more overhand-mug-throwing because I'm sure he's perpetually ragey at someone, probably Jay today, since no one addressed his fuck-it-I'll-throw-my-hat-in-this-ring offer from the weekend.
And no one will be addressing it. We're just going to leave it to twist in this crazy wind. We could almost surf today in the waters off the beach. It's fierce. I keep waiting to hear the power go out and the generators kick in but so far so good. Hopefully it will stay on. Otherwise I love this weather.
We polish off our plates in short order and I stack the dishes on the tray, moving it to the table. Lochlan buries himself back into the quilts, bringing me with him.
Thank you. That was amazing. I think you should do that every day.
Maybe I will.
Can you imagine that life?
Don't have to. Just lived it.
But every day?
Well, remember that time you put toast in the toaster without getting off the bed?
That was extreme poverty. This is luxury.
Because I made breakfast so far away from where we sleep?
Yes, exactly. But he's smiling. You do realize the day is all downhill from here now, don't you?
I hope not. I've planned a pretty exciting lunch too.
In bed?
Hopefully.
