Peace

So there we were. Two people, two married people, in our home. Alone. All alone.

It came upon usrather suddenly, this having of 'big kids.' And, granted, N isn't really a big kid yet. For heaven's sake, he's still just three, though he does have that big 04 birthday coming in a month. But he's getting there. He has friends now, the very first whispers of a social life. Yesterday, in fact, he was at WeeyumWise's house, having a picnic in the backyard and learning to play fetch with Weeyum's big, floppy dog.

At the exact same time, Em, who has a social life that is almost deafeningly loud, was visiting her friend K down the block, and had already begun agitating for a sleepover when I'd not even dropped her off. She wasn't coming home any time soon.

Baroy and I looked at each other when I got back to our house, childless. "We're alone," I said. "We could..."

"I know," he said.

I sat down into my big, overstuffed chair. He settled down onto the couch. We looked at each other, and grinned. That big, full-of-yourself grin that usually comes after the fact, not before. But for us, this was after the fact. We didn't have to have sex to feel this particular glow spread through our bodies. Being alone, together, with the actual CHOICE of whether or not we wanted to...a choice wholly uninformed by the whereabouts, sleeping habits, or noise tolerance levels of our children...that was enough.

I got up from my chair, crossed the room, straddled Baroy's body and kissed him, deeply. And then, without another word, I went back to my chair and picked up a book. He winked at me, and with a lingering grin turned on the TV. And there we sat, basking in the afterglow of a childless afternoon.

It was as good for me as it was for him.