I like these moments when she sleeps.
When the air is streaming out of her mouth in a slow, calming rhythm.
Her chest rises and falls consistently like waves flowing to and from the shore.
She breathes. In and out. Alive.
A therapist I had to go to once told me to listen to musical sounds, like the bubbling of a small stream, the wind rustling through the leaves and the birds chirping when the sun rises. She had suggested the sounds of the sea, with its seagulls and whales. Whatever would work for me.
It would be calming, she told me. It could take the edge of.
I guess she didn't get that that was exactly what I had been searching for then - The edge. And because of it I wasn't able to see what she meant and thought that if I wanted to hear the sounds of nature, I could just as easily go into a forest and hear them! I didn't need a stupid CD of sounds to help me fall asleep like maybe a little kid does.
But now I understood what she meant.
She meant for me to have a melody to calm me down, to center me, to give me something to be able to fall back on. To relax and forget. To leave the world behind. And I'm very glad that I have found that melody now.
The sun had set, with only the light from the street lanterns in front of Emma's window casting a dim glow throughout the room, only able to enter since neither Emma nor I could be bothered to get up and close the curtains once we had fallen into bed.
She's lying beside me, one hand curled against her cheek, while the other is safely tangled in mine between us. Her fingers are warm against my hand, her breath leaves a trail of warmth as it escapes her mouth, brushes her palm and finally spreads out over my neck and chest. And as we lay cuddled up beneath her cozy blanket, the air between us gets more and more heated.
There is this spreading warmth all around me, radiating from our bodies, kept safely close to us by the pillows and blankets, and it's enveloping us in a protective shell while Emma's small noises enfold me.
The slight puff of air which gently escapes from her mouth as she releases each breath.
The soft rustling of the blanket as it moves up and down in time with her chest.
Warmth that smells so Emma.
So Emma and I.
Sweet and musky.
Warm and rich.
I close my eyes and concentrate on this melody of mine.
Her breath swooshing just the quietest bit as it hits her palm.
The slight hitch of my own breath when hers peters out against my chest.
The artery of her warm wrist pulsing constantly under my fingertips.
My own heart, beating against my ribcage just the slightest bit faster and stronger.
Awake and drifting off, but not yet asleep.
Like flying, but less exhilarating.
So...More like diving.
Yes, diving deep into the depths.
Getting lost in the warmth and darkness with this comforting pressure on my body.
Her hand, blanket, mattress, leg.
She breathes and I'm feeling reassured enough to let go.
Emma is that melody for me. With more than sound playing in.
And I'm loving these moments of quiet.
Feeling safe enough to just be while her unconscious presence surrounds me.
Her warmth, her smell, her breath. Undisturbed. And unwitnessed by no one but me.