If Only
mf


My eyes slowly open to a room bathed in sunlight. I squint to read the clock
by the bedside, and find that it's only 8:35. Then I turn my head and see
you there, sleeping peacefully, the rays of gold on your face. You are
beautiful, and my stomach does one of its flips. I lie there looking at you
for some time, then gently extricate myself from the tangle of our limbs and
covers, careful not to disturb you. At the foot of the bed, I notice your
clothes from yesterday. I search to find your gray t-shirt, and carry it
with me. I love to wear your clothes. The softness of your worn shirts, the
way the collar rolls, and your scent are the next best thing to actually
being in your arms.

I slowly begin to recall last night. You'd gone out with "the guys," and I'd
had dinner with my friends. I came home much earlier than you did, and you
found me asleep in bed. What a marvelous wake-up technique you have! We made
slow, passionate love until four in the morning, when we were both exhausted
and spent. I cannot help but smile as I remember your tender touches, and
the look of ecstasy on your face.

After brushing my teeth, I decide that this is as good a time as any to try
and clean the place up. I still don't understand how two people manage to
transform an apartment from neat to messy so quickly, and so predictably,
every week. I straighten the living room, and as I am dusting, I decide this
place needs a thorough cleaning. I am blessed with a burst of energy, and
before I know it I have scrubbed the kitchen, cleaned the patio furniture,
and disinfected my bathroom. Everything but the bedroom, where you still lay
sleeping, and your bathroom -- there, you're on your own!

I've listened to Shawn Colvin and Lyle Lovett albums by this time, so I know
it must be after ten. I am hungry, but I don't want to eat without you. I
remember that we have some overripe bananas from last week, so I mix up a
batch of banana bread. I also notice all the other fruit in the
refrigerator, and my mouth waters at the thought of one of your wonderful
blender breakfasts.

I don't want to wake you -- but memories of last night keep flooding my
mind, and I can't wait to have you in my arms again, feel your fingers and
lips and tongue explore my body, and have you between my legs. I check the
email to kill some time, and then read the Sunday paper, careful to put it
back together so that it doesn't seem used.

Now it is eleven, and I can wait no longer. I quietly steal back into the
bedroom and, as gingerly as I can, slide back into my spot on the bed. I
face you, and lean over and place the gentlest of kisses on your lips. Your
eyes flutter open, and you smile. We embrace, and begin another round of
glorious lovemaking. What a morning!