Someone To Watch Over Her

Dipping the ladle in, stirring a bit, watching the steam rise, loving the rich full aroma. Drawing out three big scoops, filling the bone whit china, now looking like the flag of Japan. Turning my attention from the bowl, leading over to the grill. Using the spatula to flip the sandwiches. The cheese has just begun to melt, the bread a golden brown. I'm glad I slipped a piece of ham in the middle of one of them, variety is the spice of life.

Grabbing a plate, seating up a tray. Looking around to see if I have missed anything. Taking out the orange juice and pouring a tall cold glass, then finally adding a sleeve of crackers on a separate dish.

Carefully, I make my way down the hallway, not wanting to spill a drop.

*Aaaaahhchhhhooo!*

"Bless you" I call towards the bedroom. Nudging the door with my knee. As it swings open, I gaze upon her.

Crumpled balls of Kleenex litter the floor and the comforter. Her hair is up in a bun, countless loose strands splayed wildly, matted in some places. Her eyes, half open, are dark from lack of sleep. Her nose, red and raw from blowing. Lips dry and cracked slightly, and her skin glistens a bit from the fever. Seeing me, she smiles weakly. My god, she is beautiful.

"Hello baby, brought you some lunch" Placing the tray upon it's stand. Grabbing the washcloth from the bowl on the nightstand, soaking it in the cool water, then squeezing most of it out. Gently patting her forehead, her cheeks, the sides of her neck as well as the collarbone. Smiling at the little teddy bears that decorate the flannel jammies I bought her. Seeing how soothing she finds the damp cloth.

*Aaaaaahhhhccchhhoooo!*

"Bless you"

"Dank ooo" smiling again at me, she realizes that I am looking at her as I always do. She raises her hands to cover her face "Doan look at me, Ima meth. "

Taking her hands down, reaching over, cupping her cheeks. So warm her skin is, as if she's been laying in the sun all day. Peering in to her eyes, at those amazing eyes, "I know that I will never find the words to describe your beauty, not in this life time, or the next"

With her smile returned, I take advantage of the situation by chiming in "Now,... Eat your soup before it gets old. "

A slightly stronger smile followed by, "... k... "

Putting the tray stand over her lap as she sits up, "Okay, we have tomato soup, saltines on the side, grilled cheese, with and without ham, cut in to those triangle you like so much, and cold O. J. straight from the fridge " Finding the remote, I put on the cartoons. Funny, no matter how old we get, being sick and watching cartoons seem to go hand in hand.

"Careful,... it's hot' Just as she is about to take the first sip. Perfect lips pert to cool the bright red meal. getting up and moving to the foot of the bed. Watching her, sipping and nibbling the soup and sandwich, dunking her crackers. Every so often taking her eyes off of the screen to look at me, silently sitting there, trying to mask my concern for her health with a warm smile.

Seeing her eat makes me feel a little better, she manages to finish almost a whole sandwich, and it takes some coaxing but the soup and juice as well.

Removing her tray to the kitchen, upon my return I can see she is still very tired "You must rest". Laying back, twisting and turning.

"Can't get comfy", a statement I am well aware of when I'm sick. Returning to my spot on the bed, lifting the comforter a bit, taking hold of each foot and removing the sock slipper I insisted she wears. The temperature is still too high. gently and tenderly do I grip one at a time. Starting with fingers shrouding the instep, slowly stroking, while the thumbs glide over the ball down the sole. out of the corner of my eye her eyelids droop and the edge of her lips curl slightly. Instead of a strong grip, forceful thumbs, driving against her skin to rub away the aches, I simply caress soothingly, my only desire, to ease her discomfort. Softly, careful no to tickle.

Growing sleepier by the moment, eyes almost closed, she queries in her heavenly sweet voice"... why...?"

Before I answer this rather all encompassing question, I lean over to first kiss the very tips of each toe. How she is struggling to keep her eyes open. softly I simply reply, "... because... "

Satisfies, the lids finally fall, her breathing steady, as she drifts off. I don't know how long I sat there, watching her, seeing the strength in her build slowly.

I realized it didn't matter how long it would take... I wasn't going anywhere.