Sunday, October 24, 2010

The One With 28 Years Flushed Down The Drain.

Dear Lover,

Sometimes I still act like a child.
It mostly has to do with a week's worth of early morning alarm clocks.
And The Parentals and Godparents being in town for the weekend.
And a couple of heavy meals.
And, well, you know.

9 o'clock comes.
And I become unbearable.

Head in hands.
Palms over eyes.
Groaning and moaning unbearable.

All I want is my bed.
All I want is for Mother Mary to pat my back and tuck me in.
All I want is to sleep 10 hours straight.
With dogs at my ankles.
And my family's breathing traveling from different areas of my apartment.
A symphony of safety.
All I want is to wake up to Mother Mary and Godmother cooking eggs and ham.
The smell of orange danish in the oven.
Have Mother Mary rub cold water across my cheeks.
Dress me in the outfit she bought me the day before.
And tell me the pumpkin carving plans for the day.

A child, I tell you.
Whose purpose in life is to be lazy.
Catered to.

Independence is shot to hell.
Whenever the family rolls in to town.


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