anamnesiac

M arrived last night with the first of two deliveries – this one was made up of the bed (gloriously queen-sized and deliciously flat, firm and non-futon-ish) and the dog.

i am, in fact, in love with my dog. (M is ok, too.)

what is it about him (M, not the dog, who is, actually, a her) that makes all of the detritus swirling around in my head settle quietly at the base of my skull so that i can take the longest, fullest breath i have taken since the last time we were together? it is an odd and amazing chemical/psychological reaction. i felt it the first time i touched him almost four years ago.

so between this phenomena and the excellent bed, i hummed through the night, completely still, deeply asleep. it reminds me of swimming in the neighborhood pool when i was growing up – i would go underwater and let all of my air out, gradually floating downward, arms and hair trailing, bubbles streaming out of my nose, until i finally bumped to rest on the bottom. from there, the chaos of kids splashing and screaming was just a muted, choral tone, like a record player in reverse.