I am sitting here looking at my feet just below my computer, resting on my lap as my legs wrap around a boy.
He is working, I am wishing.
Then I realize I am content. No, he won’t be around forever, but neither will I.
However, on this drizzly afternoon, with a little too little work to do, I am happy just being here.
Here feels nice. It may not be right, or even a good idea. But it feels nice.
He is working, because that is what we do at this point in our lives. All running around pretending to be a little too official, and at times a little more immature than we really are.
It is more fun that way. And I am content with all of it.