Spoiled
We are home.
We returned to Ar yesterday around mid-afternoon. It took less time than
expected. He relieved me of the heavy pack and oddly, it felt almost ceremonial
as it was laid on the tiled floor of Samsara kitchen. There was much to be done.
The place was dusty, wood needed to be laid in the hearths, laundry done. I will
go to the market later today for any needed supplies.
Though tired, we decided to venture out last night for a while and walked first
to the waterfalls.
I saw people I had not seen in some time. Familiar faces, most simply glancing,
one offering a smile I know to be rare.
My thoughts turned inward as I laid bellied on the grass at his side. I felt
ambiguous about returning to Ar as it was, knowing I would miss the nights by a
campfire penned between his legs, his words spoken quietly in my ear, his breath
warm against my neck.
The city felt crowded after the time on the road. Noisy. Even though we did
spend time in cities and at the Sardar fair, much of the time was spent in
solitude.
I was spoiled on the road. Not spoiled in an indulged sense. But to have
experienced a time of quiet service to him ... of total focus ... was an
experience that I would not trade for jewels.