Sunday 8 February 2015

'Something about an iron hand in a velvet glove quote from Charles the Fifth', he said.

My cashmere and velvet goodies have returned and everything fits this time.  I was ordered to come and prove that to the Devil but I declined, telling him I was going to church. He offered to bring me. Nothing says weird like sitting beside Satan in a pew while Sam preaches his fool heart out.

It was worse when Jake was up there.

I'd give anything if he still was up there.

After church we went out for an early lunch or brunch I guess it's called (still no coffee after thirty-nine days) and then when we were coming back down the driveway he ordered me once again to show him when we went inside so that he is satisfied everything is right now. Once again I said no, that he will have to trust me.

That if it was a gift it comes without obligation.

He gave me that half amused-half incredulous smile that makes him look all of a handsome eighteen again and said that I win, that he can wait. But not long. 

All amused now. He really likes this game. Some days he's not impatient at all.

Sam was home when we got back. Out in the driveway drinking tea and watching Loch on the unicycle. Caleb did not even pretend he was going to run him over. He always says it would be a freak accident. Not a 'freak-accident' but a freak accident, in which case a freak gets hit. I just roll my eyes and go to sit with Sam because it's beautiful and sunny for once and the rest of the day is mine, and what's mine is ours.