Sunday, May 30, 2010


Fresh cilantro being chopped in a nearby apartment, cuts through the warm dry desert air and slips in through the windows. It's wafted in along side of an Asian stir fry and some nearby charcoal grill, just lit in time to catch the waning hours of the hot spring sun.

Not far off children shout, playing tag, catch, or maybe just chasing each other for no other reason than to run. Sirens break the shouts and laughs, but as suddenly as they start, they stop. These flashing lights will not be seen from where we lay but the noise will come up every so often. We won't flinch.

There are dogs beside us, silent and contented by the presence of an arm around them they situate themselves - just enough to be comfortable, sometimes it feels like they are trying to be invisible so that they aren't asked to move away from the humans they love so much. At their weakest moments they only sigh at the faded sounds of several other dogs, barking at cars, children, neighbors or, my favorite, howling at the siren bursts as they come closer. Dogs are a chain reaction, rarely is there only one who is barking so the will power in our bed is made even more impressive.

Then there are murmurs next to me. A reposition or a little wiggling mouth arduously breathing and swallowing. A faint moan or hum. A tug on the pillow, a push on the other. An arm finding a home on my chest and finally a head on my shoulder. My own sleep is broken for a moment as I realize how lucky I am. I smile, admire my own life for a moment and close my eyes again.

Ten years ago I wasn't a very good napper. I would wake up in a fog that would remain un-lifted for the remainder of the day. Ten years ago I was in the silence of the country but now the noises of the city calm and comfort me they lull me the way that a baby is lulled by the open road, a car seat, and a warm back seat; the way we all were comforted to sleep by Bob Barker on those days when we were just to tired of school and we convinced our parents that we were best suited for the sofa that day. All the noises, all the bursts, the scents, the shakes of the bed, the three bodies breathing around me, they all become a soup on a winter's day. Shortly after I lay down I cannot tell one sound from another.

She has also taught me that a properly utilized nap can make the day even better and I'm inclined to listen to her when she speaks, she's already made me happier than I thought possible - why question her. I now know her noises, her way of sleeping and even when there is a faint gun shot some several blocks away I'm comforted.

My life is pretty fucking amazing.

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