The whole household dropped everything last night and joined us watching movies. We made a Sam-wich, plonking him right in the center of the huge sectional and piling all around and on him and making sure he had extreme extended cuddles for the entire evening. He sat grinning, one arm looped around Dalton and one around Loch.
Sam is so much like me. Sometimes he just needs to be touched. You'll never hear anyone who lives here speak as openly as I do about the amount of affection required before I even feel as if I can get out of bed in the morning, or how awful if feels if I don't get that amount and then some. But men are raised to be tough and to be quiet so he didn't say anything and then we played charades to figure it out and I didn't have to ask anyone twice to join us.
If you've ever had someone emergency-message you (and twelve other people) to come and watch a movie in our house you just show up ready for anything. Or we do, anyway and everyone showed up ready to fix him or at least cuddle trying.
And he loved it. Sam said he wanted a weekly movie pile up.
Where have you been? I tease him. We do this all the time!
He shrugs. He was trying to work himself to death so he wouldn't feel the hard parts but they were always jabbing him anyway, sticking into him painfully, leaving bruises, leaving marks that don't fade, let alone heal.
Today again when he came downstairs for breakfast instead of nods or bits of greetings everyone got up and fought to hug him first. It was hilarious.
He was still smiling when he invited me to church to finish the work he bailed on yesterday. Grinning from ear to ear.
I hugged him last. See? I can fix things too. I mean, it's a patch job but as long as we keep on top of it, it should hold nicely.
What were you going to talk about with Lochlan yesterday, Bridge? You offered to talk to him. Is that what you meant? To talk to him about a play-hookie cuddle pile?
Yes, I lie. Of course. What else did you think I meant?
