Sunday, March 29, 2009

What I'd rather be doing

I'd love to be waking up in the late morning or early afternoon, rare sunshine streaming in the room, peaking in around the closed curtains, find its niche to wake me up. I would turn to Sam, and snuggle against his still sleeping form, quietly talking when he wakes up and then making love. Afterward we would lay entwined together, and we would talk and whisper and laugh like only lovers can, pillow talk that only make sense to those laying there together.

I would try to leave our bed but he would spoon me, and hold me and say to stay and sleep a little longer... even though it was already 1 o'clock in the afternoon. We were such lazybones because we drifted into sleep at 4 o'clock that same morning, after talking and laughing and kissing and not wanting to give in to our bodies demands that we must sleep, not wanting to stop sharing what precious time we had left together, not ready to give in to the sleepy monster, even though we would be sleeping side by side.

Finally I would wriggle out of his grasp, claiming I would have to "pee", and he would let me go, but I would cheat and use my escape to shower and dress and be ready to go out, for Mother Nature was giving Dublin a much needed gift of sunshine, no clouds, just light and warmth. I would sneak back to bed and nuzzle Sam's neck, cajoling him to wake up and go out with me, but he wanted.... no needed, more sleep.

So I would leave him a hastily scribbled note taped to the bathroom vanity where I knew he would find it and I would hit the city. My intention would be to go to "Fresh", the market near the flat, but the sunshine would draw me further into the city. I would desire to be outside, to be part of the alive bustle of the city. I would shed my coat and walk along the now familiar route, the now familiar cobblestone way, enjoying the sounds of the city which had been awake far longer than I. I would cut over to amble along next to the Liffey, loving the irony of the still waters parallel to the flowing and frantic traffic. Finally, I would arrive at Bewley's, a coffeehouse and cafe Sam had introduced me to, and then I would get a mocha and a pastry and sit outside at one of the small sidewalk tables. I would watch the people and giggle at the tourists, even though, I guess, I would technically be such. I would read a book I had tucked into my bag, or the newspaper someone left on the table, and drink my coffee, and smoke Sam's cigarettes, enjoying the thrill of the moving city that I can be part of, of the outdoors that comes with being in a city, of the quaint appeal of it, feeling so metropolitan and European in my monochrome attire.

My mobile would jingle and it would be Sam, asking where I was. He said he would join me, for this is a wondrous place that he showed me and became one of my favourite Dublin haunts- he's a fan too. He would arrive in an hours time, and bend to kiss my offered lips, tasting of minty toothpaste and tobacco. I would wave him into the empty seat opposite me, and I'd push my way through the crowd to get him a double shot espresso, and a pastry, that I knew if I asked nicely, he would share with me. We would sit companionably, mostly quiet, together in the sidewalk cafe, sharing random comments about passersby, smoking, and just enjoying being together- me letting him still wake up and let his body come into tune with the city's movement, and to tune in to mine, waiting patiently until we were humming along at the same pace.

We would take our leave and meander about, winding our way to St. Stephens Green, strolling through the park, hand in hand, chatting and laughing. The sunshine would still be a gift to us and we would sit on the grass, his head curled in my lap and we would soak up the sun. We would watch the people. We would watch a group of teens play a casual and silly game of football, the catcalls and jeers to each good naturedly ringing out. As the shadows of dusk would start to fall, we would decide to walk more, talk more, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to kiss, and wouldn't seem to stop.

As the cool darkness of the evening would settle around us, I would pull on my coat and Sam would take stock of where we have walked and then we would head to the Library Pub for pints. We would sit in the cozy chairs and watch the street below, sipping our ale and sharing contentment. We would leave and find dinner on the way back to the flat, kabobs or sushi at some place Sam knows, and then maybe go to the Celt, a pub he enjoys, for more pints, for more conversation, for more kisses, for more laughs, for more 'together'.

And then in the darkness of the city, we would leave, take a cab, holding hands and between whispers, kiss in the shadows of the bask seat like teenagers, would go back to his flat and just be together, again fighting the sleep we know we must partake in, just to enjoy a few more minutes, a few more seconds, together.

That's what I'd rather be doing today...

Obviously Missin' Sam,

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