This is how I feel, most of the time. To the early morning routines, I had to add the six to seven o’clock rehearsal hour. One twin to train and the other to guide. Mornings of December look like late nights. Like when you’ve gotta finish the business before they leave for school, starting another day.
Then the morning becomes a day, I water my flowers, greet the cats, turn my notebook on, trying to dream. Until hubby comes to speak out his dreams about me. Some I love, some I discard, some I fear.
I love to dream about the coming night, or morning – almost the same, when he will get into my bed, naked, to kiss my shoulder or my cheek, to caress my hip and my leg; when he will provide another internal massage to my vagina. I need this every night. It’s technically sex, I get that, but I take it as a massage, a wellness treatment. It is what keeps me together. Along with a casual kitchen waltz after breakfast. Along with a naked kitchen cooking/baking video. Along with a new photo sitting, shot on a whim. Along with a new plough through the clutter and a new decorated corner, a snatch of a dream.
Then comes lunch, preparing it, keeping it warm, till the twins return home along with the early night of December.