Glass houses

I haven't been sharing much writing lately, so here's a segment from my journal from a day in October.


I stepped on glass today.  Now before you go feeling sorry for me, let me tell you, it was my fault.  

You see, the other day after I was done fussing with Steve over something, I slammed our bedroom doors, in the middle of my pouting.  Of course leading the curtain rod holding photos, a glass air plant atrium. & a little more than it could hold in dream catchers, and harmony bows to come flying off the wall.  I open the door feeling the anger making my face burn.  Smoke would have been coming out of my ears if they haven't been clogged for two months. 

I slowly turn my attention from blankly staring at Steve, who is quickly typing, as I see his eyes darting back and forth; to what mess I had to clean up.  Barefoot as always, I'm surrounded by broken glass, and decide shoes first.

Walking back in I hear the tobii say, "Don't get mad at me, that was all you."  I look to him, and he's smiling.  You know that smile, he masters so well that makes it physically impossible to stay mad at him.  

I fight it back, that is until we are both in a giggle fit, and I forget why I even slammed the door to begin with.  "Yeah, I'm sorry," I begin, "You're a saint for dealing with me," proceeding to hum Grateful Dead's Saint Stephen aloud. 

"I just understand you boopy."  Bingo.  He gets me. All of me.  

What a freaking beautiful thing that is.  I mean how cool to have that one person, who just understands me and my ways? 

After digging the glass out of my foot this morning, I look to Steve, who was ready to fall back asleep, as the meds are kicking in by now, and both sharing a moment of just knowing how cool it is to be understood.  Then he interrupts the staring contest with, "You okay boopy?" 

I'm okay. No, in fact, I'm more than okay.  I'm great. :)