Lucky for me I can't hear heartbeats. I asked Lochlan if he could and he looked at me rather strangely for a moment and then asked if I thought he could.
I shrug. I kind of hate it when he remembers that I can't hear regular things, like leaves rustling in wind and then there are other things that I think should make actual noise but apparently don't, like bubbles popping in a glass of champagne or combing your hair. Like curly hair would be crackly and rustling and straight hair would be a whooshing sound like a waterfall but not as thunderous.
I can hear fire if I listen very closely. I love the snaps of dry wood and leaves and the popping sound of oxygen bubbles in the flames so don't feel sorry for me, as I still have that.
I also have a lovely rendition this morning of Surfer Girl, sung in harmony by Lochlan and August with the ending howls and refrains by Sam and Matt, who arrived at the perfect moment.
Lochlan's been hover-ish and affectionate as always and I want for nothing more. He's goofy and entertaining and he doesn't let go. Most people will accept a hug (for a moment) or hold my hand until they get hot/weird/distracted but Lochlan's always been on a different plane of existence with tenderness for me. A hug means suddenly you're walking into someone everywhere you go. You have four legs and no arms. You can't see but shirt buttons and curls. You're warm all the time. Holding my hand means I am permanently connected. He can go without letting go of my hand for an entire day or a whole night, in his sleep even. He will excuse himself to let go to deal with something and then he's right back. At least once a week he will absentmindedly try to put my hand in his pocket for safekeeping.
It's endearing and it's very necessary as over the years it became as important as oxygen or water and he's never once failed to hold up his end of a lifelong promise in that it didn't matter who I was in love with or how angry he was at me, or to be fair who HE was in love with or how angry I was at him, that affection could still be counted on however long or whenever it was needed.
Our love story is a circle, full and round.
It's Sunday which is the Most! Righteous! Day! Of! The! Week! according to Sam who is anxious to get off the mic and back into the church but that is next week. Every second bench has been taped off and people have been divided into groups according to the alphabet so if your family name is A-M, please come to the early service which has been moved to 1030 and if you're N-Z please come to the 1130 service. Both services are going to be a lot shorter than usual and there will be no greetings in the vestibule. Any requests for home visits or hospital are now on the community minister which puts Sam out of the line of fire for getting sick and Matt is relieved.
New Jacob even brought home the collection plates and instead built a box for envelopes that will be at the back of the sanctuary so offerings can be made as people arrive. That's how to shorten a service, let me tell you. I think passing the plates is stupid and lengthy and that's why we fill them with silly things. But instead of helping sway Sam to give up the practice (I don't think hardly any churches do it anymore) it encouraged him to continue it to see what we come up with next.
So Sam blessed our heathen foreheads and gave me an extended dance around his outstretched hand, like a true ballerina and then they were off for a Sunday drive and maybe some take-out to finish out their final honeymoon weekend and I am twirled back to Lochlan who doesn't like church anyway and will have to be cajoled back to worship, which won't be hard if the rest of them go, honestly. He used to love sitting under the tent outside at the show listening to the preacher who would come and give a twenty minute service to the performers early Sundays. We would sit in the heat and fan our faces, his arm looped loosely across the back of my shoulders and nod with each heavy thought but then things happened and he stopped believing that God even existed and it's been a battle ever since.
Then what makes your heartbeat so loud? I ask him triumphantly and he surprises me.
You do.