January 22, 2005
Instantaneously
Sometimes when he wakes up he's not sure who he is, where he is. The circuits are all working, but it's a blank slate, the computer just now coming online and functioning with no memory yet. And then he looks and there I am, and it all comes flooding back to him. I am there next to him, and because he knows immediately that I am Monique, then he must be Andrew. And all the pieces are back in place just like that, instantaneously.
Instantaneously Redux
He has a trunk full of boxes he brought home from work for Stew. No one asked, he found they had empty boxes and just brought them home for Stew. For packing purposes. He's also going to be helping move things into storage on moving day. He brought one large box up to my porch when he came home last night.
When I told Stew he said, "But I don't have anything to give him . . . "
As if anything we've ever done around here has ever been done on the basis of exchanging like for like.
"But you did, anyway," I tell him, "You took digital pictures for him yesterday."
We don't care about equal exchanges around here anyway.
So he asked, since he was on his way out the door to work, if it was okay if we got the rest of the boxes out of the trunk tomorrow, if Stew would be okay for one more day without them.
Since they're surprise boxes, I told him that was fine.
Then he said he had to be careful when getting the boxes out of the trunk because my anniversary present is in there too.
My anniversary present?
What the hell?
February 22nd. One year since we met.
This is an important occasion. He's been thinking about what we should do. He has extra time off work because of the holiday. He not only has a present for me, but he has a present for me now, and it's still a month away.
This morning, when I woke up not yet ready to wake up because I hadn't slept well and the dog wanted to go for her morning walk, he asked about taking her himself, then took her for a walk, and told me to go back to sleep. There's always presents around here these days.
Sometimes when he wakes up he's not sure who he is, where he is. The circuits are all working, but it's a blank slate, the computer just now coming online and functioning with no memory yet. And then he looks and there I am, and it all comes flooding back to him. I am there next to him, and because he knows immediately that I am Monique, then he must be Andrew. And all the pieces are back in place just like that, instantaneously.
Instantaneously Redux
He has a trunk full of boxes he brought home from work for Stew. No one asked, he found they had empty boxes and just brought them home for Stew. For packing purposes. He's also going to be helping move things into storage on moving day. He brought one large box up to my porch when he came home last night.
When I told Stew he said, "But I don't have anything to give him . . . "
As if anything we've ever done around here has ever been done on the basis of exchanging like for like.
"But you did, anyway," I tell him, "You took digital pictures for him yesterday."
We don't care about equal exchanges around here anyway.
So he asked, since he was on his way out the door to work, if it was okay if we got the rest of the boxes out of the trunk tomorrow, if Stew would be okay for one more day without them.
Since they're surprise boxes, I told him that was fine.
Then he said he had to be careful when getting the boxes out of the trunk because my anniversary present is in there too.
My anniversary present?
What the hell?
February 22nd. One year since we met.
This is an important occasion. He's been thinking about what we should do. He has extra time off work because of the holiday. He not only has a present for me, but he has a present for me now, and it's still a month away.
This morning, when I woke up not yet ready to wake up because I hadn't slept well and the dog wanted to go for her morning walk, he asked about taking her himself, then took her for a walk, and told me to go back to sleep. There's always presents around here these days.
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