SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

Profile - Archive- RSS
Notes - Email - Diaryland

The Island - Sunday, Jun. 02, 2019
Clarity - Friday, May. 31, 2019
Entitlement - Wednesday, May. 29, 2019
Swim #7 - Monday, May. 27, 2019
The Smoke Bluffs - Sunday, May. 26, 2019


Sunday, May. 26, 2019 @ 12:34 am
All-Day Date



The day passes with a series of exquisite vignettes.

His arm around me in the most comforting and protective way, our bodies bare, the comforter pulled up around us, grey daylight across the smooth expanse of his shoulder. I press my ear to his chest and listen to the steady, slow beat of his heart.

In the kitchen, he manages the hash browns while I segment an orange and slice strawberries. He tells me to steal a piece of bacon from the plate, and so of course I do.

Walking along the seawall, raindrops falling again on my forehead. Crows gathered at the shoreline to eat mollusks.

In the stadium, beer in plastic cups. He folds the program into a pterodactyl and then makes it attack me, biting my arm, messing up my already messy hair. A soccer match happens in front of us, but neither of us particularly cares. We walk slowly around the concourse at half time, arms around each other. People stream around us, hot dogs and popcorn and jerseys and slopping beers.

Leaving the stadium, mounting bikes, and riding to my favourite beer hall. Sitting at the bar, sharing two meals, drinking hoppy beer. A train engine idles through the window, shaking the entire building.

Walking up carpeted stairs into the show venue. Stepping behind a curtain, we kiss and kiss and kiss. And then dancing together in the dark while the band plays on stage. I get lost in the music, close my eyes, his body all against my left side, his hand under my shirt pressed into the small of my back. I look down and in a flash, I see my belly full with child. Bass pulses through me. My belly full and heavy, his hand passing over the curve of it all.

Cycling back to the West End together, slowly. The night quiet.

He rummages around in the back of his van and hands me the wrench that I need to assemble my table.

I had a great time today. I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning. See you in a few hours. Sleep well.


Roots | Shoots