May in March
Last weekend Boy and I went to Kink For All in New York City (where we introduced ourselves at Zac and Emms). We met people and heard talk and it were inspired and played with/as puppies and ate Chinese food and enjoyed ourselves, and when we left we brought back our friend, May.
He is an exceptional addition to our house, a force for tidiness and conversation and cuddles. In return for these things, we offer him an easy, semi-isolated space to write the book he's past due on, and to recover from sickness of the body and the heart. He sleeps in the office, and wakes slowly in the mornings, and works through the afternoons. He likes to sit in front of the heater, and adds Cayene pepper to all of his food (because we cannot supply him with fresh chilles). For the first three days here he drank tea by the potful, without ceasing, until a friend of ourse reminded him that drinking tea and nothing else can leave you dehydrated. Since then he has alternated tea, water, and a drink I made him one morning by pouring boiling water over sliced fresh ginger and honey and squeezing in a fat wedge of lemon.
He is sick, but cannot swallow pills, so we took him to the winter farmers market and bought him a tea to clear his sinuses and a tincture of echinacea and raw honey and vitamin C and other things too help his headache clear and his nose unclog and his throat tame its aching. Now he sits in the sunshine on the cushions in front of the heater, having removed his converse high tops, and codes CSS and eats Wheat Thin crackers, which he says he missed this whole past year in Australia.
I look at him alot. He is a strange new thing in my home, with big eyes and a big noble acquiline nose, and vibrant, mobile, tight little corkscrew curls the color of rust. I feel privaledged to watch him, lucky to be here in this time in his life, to lend a hand and love him while he puts pieces together in new ways. I feel as though I'm seeing a creature who hasn't existed before.
I watch him, and he watches Boy. May has lived in cyberspace and fastime since he was young, and watching Boy pull apart chairs and put their pieces back together in different combinations, or comune with metal and pieces of things that used to be, his eyes go wide and he points at Boy and says to me "He's magic!" I have known this for a while. I like especially to see May and Boy cuddle, these two slightly timid, ever-so-different boys who are so appreciative and so kind with eachother.
So it is March, and tomorrow is the first day of spring, and the sunshine is weak through the windows, and May complains about the cold, and snuffles, and washes the dishes, and cuddles with us, and shows us things we didn't know about the internet, and drinks tea. And we will keep him for a while, and when he goes, be here if he needs to wander back.
He is an exceptional addition to our house, a force for tidiness and conversation and cuddles. In return for these things, we offer him an easy, semi-isolated space to write the book he's past due on, and to recover from sickness of the body and the heart. He sleeps in the office, and wakes slowly in the mornings, and works through the afternoons. He likes to sit in front of the heater, and adds Cayene pepper to all of his food (because we cannot supply him with fresh chilles). For the first three days here he drank tea by the potful, without ceasing, until a friend of ourse reminded him that drinking tea and nothing else can leave you dehydrated. Since then he has alternated tea, water, and a drink I made him one morning by pouring boiling water over sliced fresh ginger and honey and squeezing in a fat wedge of lemon.
He is sick, but cannot swallow pills, so we took him to the winter farmers market and bought him a tea to clear his sinuses and a tincture of echinacea and raw honey and vitamin C and other things too help his headache clear and his nose unclog and his throat tame its aching. Now he sits in the sunshine on the cushions in front of the heater, having removed his converse high tops, and codes CSS and eats Wheat Thin crackers, which he says he missed this whole past year in Australia.
I look at him alot. He is a strange new thing in my home, with big eyes and a big noble acquiline nose, and vibrant, mobile, tight little corkscrew curls the color of rust. I feel privaledged to watch him, lucky to be here in this time in his life, to lend a hand and love him while he puts pieces together in new ways. I feel as though I'm seeing a creature who hasn't existed before.
I watch him, and he watches Boy. May has lived in cyberspace and fastime since he was young, and watching Boy pull apart chairs and put their pieces back together in different combinations, or comune with metal and pieces of things that used to be, his eyes go wide and he points at Boy and says to me "He's magic!" I have known this for a while. I like especially to see May and Boy cuddle, these two slightly timid, ever-so-different boys who are so appreciative and so kind with eachother.
So it is March, and tomorrow is the first day of spring, and the sunshine is weak through the windows, and May complains about the cold, and snuffles, and washes the dishes, and cuddles with us, and shows us things we didn't know about the internet, and drinks tea. And we will keep him for a while, and when he goes, be here if he needs to wander back.
posted by Switch at 4:20 PM
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