Saturday evening, I’m sick and in my pajamas. Most of the day, I’ve been curled up on the couch resting, watching you and Gus come and go.
It’s hard to take a time out and to miss all the weekend activity. This afternoon, when you and Gus ventured out in the rain to our favorite cafe, I missed accompanying you. I even missed participating in the ordinary things, like convincing Gus to wear his new rain boots. Which, he stubbornly refused.
Being sick is a lonely task. I appreciate you taking such good care of Gus. But, if I’m honest, I crave some of your attention. I know how hard that is to give because I’ve been on the other end of it. Gus needs a lot of attention and care .
If only I could have my mom here. That would solve a thing or two. She’d bring me chicken soup and ginger ale, if I’m lucky, jello for dessert. She’d tuck me in, rub my head, and keep me company.
Saturday evening, I’m sick and in my pajamas. Gus has had a change of heart and is clomping around in his new rain boots, anticipating tomorrow’s puddles. He tells me we’ll go splashing, but sadly, I imagine, I’ll be stuck here on the couch.
You’re in the bathroom trimming your beard, preparing for an evening out. The school’s annual Gala, it’s been on the calendar for months. I urged you to go without me, but you know how that goes. This silent, lonely part inside of me wishes you would stay here and watch a movie.
You look handsome in your suit. I feel grubby and unattractive in my pajamas. Before you go, I tell you to have fun and to say hi to everyone for me. Also, I want to tell you, please don’t talk to your pretty friend, the one from grad school, not without me there. I know it’s harmless, but I don’t know how to otherwise say that I’m feeling both a little bit vulnerable and jealous.
So, I’ll take my lonely post on the couch.