Air Conditioning

Gaels for the Ghost

As a storm Gael buffets my hands, lays on my face, and begs for my attention,

I find it hard to write when it's an activity that requires both sets of fingers.

He truly is a storm, only six months old (April 14th, so close to my own). He knocks things over and gets into things he shouldn't, and he runs away from my parents hands who only want to pet the family member they've been so excited to meet.

A Gael so evasive becomes so needy with me, making biscuits and requiring pets. It fills me with a kind of selfish satisfaction that he loves me and not them.

He's warming up though, as they learn not to force themselves onto him. It's sweet to see.

I find myself calling him bug boy in my head.

But he wasn't meant to be the subject of today (odd how he makes himself the center of attention, always).

Sitting crosslegged on a lawn chair in my backyard ended with me getting a mosquito bite right in the center of the bottom of my foot,

Remembering the walks the grieved take and singing to the ghosts of him that still linger in the 3am light,

Singing with a voice that cracks, goes out, and wavers,

A voice that's growing.

I'm sure college parties are a blast, if you fancy yourself going to them,

Listening to music that may or may not be your style and getting wasted, or maybe you're the designated driver?

I can't decide what makeup to do for work tomorrow, but I guess I'll figure it out.

I'm sure it's nice, to invite others to your bed without worry, and to stay up as late as you'd like.

Do you keep company while you sleep? Or am I the only one with the luxury of a nightly companion?

(A squirmy, needy, disruptive one who licks my nose when he wants to be fed, but a cute companion nonetheless.)

I know you would have suffered to meet him,

And I know he would have loved you.