Sunday, March 1, 2009

I want to be...

Kissing my wife, making out with her, holding her, lying naked with her, feeling her body, making love. I want to hold her hand and lie in a hammock together or walk around the street. I want to hear those words, I miss you. You are handsome. I want you.

I'm staring over at my wife and seeing those sweet little delicious lips dissecting the day, but I'm only thinking how my lips would feel pressed up against hers. I hope she doesn't quiz me as she does sometimes. Are you listening? Yes. What did I just say? I usually make something up here based on the couple of words I did hear, or I just am silent. Either way she gets upset.

But now it doesn't matter, I yearn for her. But with a mountain of stuff between her and I on this kitchen table, how could we ever come together. I wish we could be in a movie for a while where we throw everything off the table, reaching and grabbing for each other, dying to make love. The way it was the night I asked her to be my girlfriend, on the beach, in the mouth of that cave in LaJolla, San Diego, the ocean lapping up against our feet in celebration of her saying yes.

Now it's a baby highchair and a baby reaching up for me. Abby wants me to hold her and she's pretty upset about it as an eleventh month old can be. On the table sits my lunch, on top of scripts and notes for my current show, Loveswell, bills, junk mail, an alarm clock, a camera, an organizer, a box of pasta, The Baby Book, and a half dozen other things collaging up my eating space and creating a list of to dos that's keeping me from those lips on my wife.

I pick up Abby. She reaches for my lunch as I pull her away. Christie hands me a green bean and I destring and nibble off a tiny bit, then playfully poke my tongue out at my daughter, the been dangling off. As usual she would reach up and take off the bean with her fingers, but she must of been hungry, she leaned in and mouthed it off my tongue before I even knew what happened.

It was one of the sweetest things she's done, so innocent, so wanting the food and seeing it there just went for it. My wife sighed, Oh, that's so sweet, she french kissed you. Don't say that. No, no, I'm kidding, that was so sweet. Oh, she's so cute. Everyday my daughter endears herself to us in some new way that blows our minds. This was one more on the list.

But part of me thought, I wonder if that would work on Christie? Maybe if I chewed up her food on her plate and sat close enough to her on the other side of this messy table, maybe she'd just go for me, if at least just to eat her dinner. I want to french kiss my wife.

The days just get so busy now, having a kid, working on shows, writing a play, auditioning, working, working out, cooking food, doing chores, and it's all so exhausting that I'm looking for her at the end of the day, only when I find my wife, we both just want to crash.

I want to be...hmmmm...so much.