I stayed home on Friday night to bake coffee cake. It had apples in it.
My boy came to me after a late work night, and we slept.
I woke up first. It was nearly noon, though you wouldn’t have known it from the grey light through the windows. He was just an occasional arm or leg outside a pile of duvet while I warmed up breakfast and made hot chocolate.
We stayed in bed as long as possible. I soaped his back in the shower, and he watched me put on mascara.
This boy-- he makes me such a girlfriend.
We’re more than six months in, and, yeah. . . it’s still a surprise. The good kind of surprise.