Years ago a partner who did not drink watched me pour half a glass of wine down the sink before we went to bed. He said he’d not had a drink in more than a decade but my casual discard set his nerves jangling. This is the danger in the parts of ourselves we cover over. There is danger in the casual offer of your heart’s desire. There is danger in what someone almost hands us, without ever realizing the value we place on it.
I adore the gentleman caller’s children. This isn’t a surprise, not really. I like most kids. As we made pizza on Saturday night, when I showed his daughter how to knead dough, laughed with his son about the salad, it felt . . . . comfortable.
Which is dangerous.