The care aides and staff are worrying about his snoring and snorting at night. I laugh and say, “oh yeah, he always did that. The trick is to hug him and whisper in his ear, ‘Roll over, I want to cuddle.”‘
Snuffling and complaining, the big bear would roll over, protesting, to me peculiarly and incompehensibly, “But the gods sleep on their backs.”
The correct answer of course is – No no not, stop snoring jerk! – but honeyed words… “But i want to cuddle you, so roll over … Chum.” (Can’t encourage the gods’ swelled heads you know!)
And after some wiggling and snorting, peace would descend in the night.
The care aide, a big guy, laughs and says… well i don’t think i’ll try that, he’d probably punch the dickens out of me.
Too bad, i laugh as i skip out, home to blessed freedom from dementia for another day.
But later that evening, i remember how, after he started the fire in our cabin and made coffee for me, he would crawl back into bed with icy feet. As i tried to warm him, (oh yes, more cuddling) he would say, “I am glad to be back; I have been walking on the earth.”
oh my i miss those sweet mornings and my coffee in bed, delivered mostly with a kiss, but sometimes an annoying “Time to get up, Layabout Lout,” and then a kiss.
Eventually he got too confused to deal with the coffee anymore, even when after we moved to the city we got a coffee maker with a timer.
Then it was time to improvise, so I would hop out of bed, and pour a half cup, (because he wasn’t steady enough to carry a full cup and it distressed him when it spilled).
I would give him the cup, and scurry back to bed, so we could continue his love offering on the morning.
Now we are both walking on the earth, apart.