He awoke before her, glancing at her huddled shape beneath the covers where she had pulled most of them around her, leaving him with a few bits of sheets and a little bit of blanket at his feet.
He smiled, knowing she was warm, probably still hungover and let her sleep.
It had rained overnight, the air heavy with humidity and drawing a pall across the sky. The sky was white, the morning felt scrubbed and against the glass windows leftover rain drops slowly slid down. There was no traffic, no sirens...it was like the world was asleep.
He padded over to the coffee machine, one of those one cup at a time technologies and glanced briefly at the directions...figuring it out he did all the steps, and listened to the machine warming up the water. Glancing back into her room he saw it was still dark, the curtains pulled tight...it was cold with the air conditioner on but he liked it like that...slept better. Against her, his skin warm, she tended to slide against him, her legs entangling his, her arm across his chest, her nose near his pillow...he could feel her fall asleep, the tiny muscle reactions, the slowing down of her breathing...he thought she feel asleep first and once he knew that he could finally close his eyes and join her.
The coffee machine sputtered and started dispensing steaming coffee...the smoke of it rising and he looked for all the sugars and syrups he normally needed to enjoy it. He found some in a box and added it until the coffee went from her eye color to a shade of her when her skin was the tannest at the height of summer.
He walked to the screened-in porch and opened the door, feeling the weight of the air finally...he pulled it closed quietly and sat and sipped...his mind was finally uncluttered...her proximity was comfort, his distance from her now gone.
Distance is a pragmatic matter...it's real, measured in miles and curves...with today's technology you could call or video...but still nothing was like the first kiss in rejoining...nothing like the weight of a hand placed...nothing close to scent. Of all the senses it was just being near enough to breath her in. She carried with her the day...her morning ritual, her day outside...her work, her play...she was recognizable and known...and when her narrow neck was near him all of her brushed off on him and he knew she was close.
She smelled like her.
She tasted like her.
A taste so instantly recognizable...unlike the coffee warm in his cup, with its syrups and sugars she possessed that naturally....every time.
He hoped she slept in...tried to remain still in the morning...her brain recharging and her body quiet. There were slight stirrings in the air, leaves gently swaying, a barely perceptible breeze floating by now and again. But mostly it was still. Like a church that was empty late in an evening.
He finished his cup and thought about making another. He felt a little anxious, knowing she was mere feet away...he wanted her to be awake, to be there...talking....that slight southern morning drawl that would be heavy from sleep. Deep long deserved sleep.
He wanted to wake her with a kiss, right near her ear...feel her coming awake like he felt her falling asleep...he wanted her to join his day, be like a sunrise and just color his world, warm him, press against him and quicken his thoughts.
Instead he stayed quiet...knowing that he could be a little patient. Knowing he could wait...that each minute for her was restorative...but still. He could not wait for her to rise and truly let his day begin.
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