Thursday, January 14

Boys Live Here

Boys Live Here.

Tiny colored pieces hide against the dark wood grain, I find them as I sweep.

I sit on a Trio wrapped in yarn, they shout cheers that I've found the lost bucket of a crane.  Didn't you know we were looking for that?

One eats and eats and eats. The other complains and complains and complains, but I know in my heart that one day I won't be able to keep enough food on his plate either.

Pants turn into capris. Socks get holes.  And shoes get tossed aside because they're pinching toes.

And oh the mud.  Mud, dirt, and sticks.  Mud on boots and on jeans, dirt in every corner of the house.  Sticks that have been carved into pocketknives and pencils.

I treasure precious gifts of parking lot rocks, yellow-flowered backyard weeds, and very wet kisses.  They get this look in their eyes, a look I know will one day be for another woman, and they tell me they love me, and plant those kisses on my cheek.  Or wrist or hip, wherever they can reach at the time.

The chandelier shakes and I hear their favorite singer yahhhh-yahhh-yahhhing the same song for the 11th time.  Because "repeat" and "volume up" are their favorite buttons on their CD player.

They quarrel and argue.  They disagree on how to build the castle, or who can be which colored knight.  They can't find a belt and blame the other one for hiding it.  They tease each other, and I know the younger of them usually quietly instigates before I hear the older one yell at him.  They think I don't know.

They are the reasons I sport a few new gray hairs and keep a hidden stash of dark chocolate.

They keep this house lively and loud.  And I love them to death.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Perfect little essay! You have GOT to send this out to get published somewhere!

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