Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.

My cheek was on his warm bare back this morning. My ear was red. Was hot. And the children were with Ouisie, with Reggie. I imagined Rev fast asleep in his bed, Trinity taken care of. All three of us smiled in unison. Together enjoying our day of rest. Harry woke and rolled over. Nestled necks and aftershave smell and a lovely feeling of being complete. One day we'll be all each other has, he says in his philosophical sleeping voice. Just touch me, I answered and our day was planned.

This afternoon, I wore a light dress. Orange. Danced around the living room because it was finally sunny. The carpet was extra white, instead of the children there were footprints. Ouisie used lemon soap yesterday. I can still smell it. Oh, Edward, thank you for not coming today. Deeper instincts? Ouisie? But Harry danced with me, looked out the window, made drinks, stopped me from smoking a cigar. So I chewed it and stood out on the porch. Music carried us to the couch and we were again teenagers hoping that his parents didn't walk in. No television, no yells or cries or veggie puree smells. I felt life in me, like blood pumping, like juice, like air carrying me upwards. These are our adventures.

Tonight for dinner, we will be having one of our usual parties. There is time to cook piccadillo, make drinks, invite some of the children's friends. Edward will be invited, but not in a way that implies I love him. He will be invited as a friend of Harry's, an admirer of Harry's parents. He will bring wine. I will try not to drink it. When I drink his drinks, I drink him, to him. I will be that girl that Harry shows off, which he likes. He especially loves it when I play wife, when I play with the kids, kiss his cheek in front of Edward. Is this for him or for me?

I love this day.