His smile crackles, a semi permanent halo. I watch him from the window as he jauntily walks to work, fizzing with the knowledge that I am lucky, so lucky, to have him in my life. As he turns to wave, vanishing behind a building, I smile back, and mock groom the fluffy ears of our shared white monster hat. I love him so much in this moment, as I am sure he loves me, and with that thought, he turns, pouncing from behind the corner with his hands up like paws, trying to surprise me, as if his backpack hadn’t been poking past the bricks as he hid, the feet of a child who hasn’t quite grasped the intricacies of being unseen.
We’re going to Montreal soon, for Michel‘s wedding to a very clever woman I’m not sure I’ve met and to visit with Lung and Christine and Dee. I’ve hit that place in my travel plans where the imminent departure date has begun to make me nervous. Do we know where we’re staying? Where we’re going? Does everyone know when we get there? Daft concerns, the sort of fretting that helps no one. If I don’t know yet, I soon shall, so put a lid on it, will you brain? It’s not a panic so much as a very low grade adrenaline hum, as my subcutaneous tissue tenses in anticipation, as if I’m about to run in a race, pounding the pavement to music playing slightly too loud but just under the edge of my hearing.