Soothing Him To Sleep

In the glow of my laptop, he is silhouetted. His bare back faces me, the quilt slung low across his hips, signaling he’s warm on this particular night. As I reach my fingers toward his warm, bald head, I am greeted by a week’s worth of peach fuzz that’s come in since I last trimmed it for him. It prickles at my fingertips as I swirl my way around his head, then make my way down his neck to his back, a softer, yet altogether different feeling skin, more leathery from the rashes that plagued him before the chemo began, but have long since gone. Only the toughened skin remains as a reminder for my fingers to trace along his spine. In this filtered light, I imagine his body made of leather, porcelain, soft clay, copper, marble. I imagine a mixed-medium sculpture of textures & temperatures forming the parts that blend into the whole man I love. I whisper into his warm, coppered ear, “I love you.” His snores are so small, they barely rise to his shoulders. I let my love drape over his back a few minutes more, let it hang until it slides comfortably off into its own puddle alongside his form. We forever remain 2 made better as 2.