I've always known, items show up in the strangest places. Like the bag of panties under the hotel room, the bag I left behind. I suppose now I would suppose he took them, and wore them, without my consent. Violator.
Next I'm asleep on the couch, a decade later. He's cleaning his guns and watching a reality television show about survival. I'm in service mode, tired, and numb. The slide of the clip wakes me from a dead sleep and he
grins his evil knowing grin. I slink to the floor and push my head against his leg. He pets me, and then it happens, three minutes later.
I find my smile again. Where did you go? There you are? Welling up from deep inside and all is well anymore. Again. And suddenly whatever evidence of others I encountered in my cleaning, because you always do, doesn't matter as much to me like it did a moment before.
Fast forward a few and the new candidate is the youngest one yet. What the fuck? So I take a turn on Uncle Pauls lap, as I'm apt to do several times a year, and then there it is again. After BLP shows the young man how to hold me in his arms against his chest, grasping my hip first, then stroking my hair, then pushing my head all the way down beneath his chin. Then the breathing exercises that help circumvent my anxiety and then there it is again. I got my smile back.
My favorite time is always the second time around, because if you can get it again, then you know you can get it for good.
Thanks to my friends, now I know where to go when I loose my smile to find it again. Turns out a little petting is all this kitten needs to make her purr again.
Today Madam returns from travel, Adam arrives from Montana, I get to see my two puppies for the first time in 8 months, Abe turns 20, Shiv is working overtime on the temple, and I'm about to make a chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting. You know it's good when there's time to blog and bake.