'Tis Morning

I woke up this morning next to bico and watched him sleep. He was curled in a ball, no covers because of the heat looking completely relaxed and soft. I use the word soft because the bico I have gotten in know in the last 8 months (yes, it has been 8 months since that life changing evening back in November) is different. He surprises me at work with flowers. He makes sure I know how he feels. He lets himself look and be silly with no thought. This is not to say he didn't use to be open, but he is now in a different way. He remains my best friend, but is now my partner. Each decision we make effects the other and we are greatful for it. As he has said, this has been two years in the making. We were not built over night.

He is soft and childlike when he sleeps, so I spent a good long while rubbing his back and ridding his eye lids of stray lashes. Tomorrow is his birthday and yes, I do make fun of him and his impending decade change, but I'm very excited. He's grown so much in the time I've known him. We both have.

One thing I hadn't expected was how similar our taste would be. Decorating the apartment has been so enjoyable. We both respect the old and my antique obsession has meshed with his appreciation of the archaic. On Saturday we bought a beautiful oak bookcase where all my vintage poetry books can be housed. We saw it, both stopped and expressed our desire. In fact, 95 percent of items we see when we are out shopping, we share a love for. My old typewriter sits on the table, and his classical records decorate the room. On Friday, my friend Lori gave us an antique Chinese basket with a silk service for two inside. The apartment has begun to express our likes and feels more like home each day.

As for myself- I have started a new regiment. I write for an hour every night, (plans permitting). It's an hour to work on my novel, an hour to have some quiet time to myself, and an hour for plosk to work on his web stuff. I have broken my cycle of fear. And it's slow moving, but I am producing some really solid writing, which is all I can ever ask. I've also been revisiting favorite books and poets, and focusing on the construction of what I consider to be fine writing. Last night, while bico laid in bed with stomach pain, I read him the first chapter of "The Things They Carried" and sent Brian "The Burning of Paper Instead of Children." I'm focusing. I'm feeling momentum. I can't ask for more than that.