Readers, I cannot wait.
I had this sensory experience of him the other day, while sitting in my therapist's chair and trying to listen to that part of me which is so sad, to hear what it had to tell me. I felt him as though my arms were around him and my cheek was laid on his curly head. I felt the roughness of his hair and the substantial warmth of his body.
He was turned away from me, but the part of me that is sad allowed him to turn to face me, and to return my embrace. My god, that felt good.
I miss the physical sense of his presence, and I miss his footfalls upstairs, when I am just beneath him, and his beautiful green eyes. I miss his rushed, slurred speech, which I guess is a side-effect of one of his meds -- although I get to hear it every might when he calls me. I wait for those calls like you would not believe.
He sounds so good on the phone, as if they switched him out with some other kid who is happy, and also a very good mimic.
But I think it's really Benjy who's happy. I am so thankful for that.
And I'm getting lots of time with Saskia, which is a gift. The pleasure of just sitting on the couch and watching something dumb on TV together! (And the bizarre experience of having to ask her about something we heard on Family Guy, and having her say, "Uh, Google it." And then, hastily: "No, don't!" Oy.)
Last night we watched this:
So. Much. Fun. Even Saskia loved it, after a few minutes of grumbling and fiddling with her phone. (She's convinced nothing good came out of the 80's except her cousins. I could not even wheedle her into conceding that Jessica Lange's outfit at the end of the movie was kinda cute. Then again, Saskia is not easily wheedled into anything. She was born highly opinionated.)
In publishing news: you will be able to read something mostly funny -- yes, funny! -- by me in the fairly near future. Two things, actually -- the first in O Magazine, in October; the second in More -- but who knows when? Publishing is a sloooow business. I'll let you know when I know.
So yes, I do depart from the usual pathos every so often. Long-time readers of this blog have actual proof of this. I remember writing a few funny posts in the distant past, when life seemed to hold more humor inside it.
Anyway, it's really too gray outside to write anything else. Or else, too gray inside me?
More soon, Dear Readers. And remember: