Never on a Sunday

..one of those special moments. You know, the ones that people tell you will stay with you for all the years ahead logged into your memory..only they don't of course, not once the alzheimers or the dementia sets in...so better hang onto them tightly for now...well, it was one of those. i was sitting on Gee's sofa, wrapped up on my dressing gown because it was so bloody cold in the house...ran out of oil two weeks ago and still can't afford to order any more...looking around at the detritus that seems to be mandatory for young men in this day and age, and listening to him playing the guitar: an acoustic that my best male friend had lent him the evening before. Gee was sitting in bed strumming away and really enjoying the search for those Bob Dylan chords and making quite a pleasant sound in the process. And i was THERE, actually being welcomed into his bedroom, holy of holies, or maybe unholies, although i don't think Christ would really have minded a bit of adolescent (is twenty too old for adolescent?) angst and untidiness if the spirit was true, and Gee's is, true and straight as a die, which can cause a few conflicts in this era of broken promises and dwindling integrity. still, we like challenges, runs in the family, and at least he can cook! Iron too, which is just as well since i don't. Iron that is, i do cook. i sat there listening and watching, breathing in the sense of belonging and peace like an athlete breathes in the early morning freshness before trying to burst his lungs doing the two minute mile. My mile would start soon enough, even if it was a Sunday, but for just those few frozen moments my son was mine.