You know there was that one time. That time Levi made me Split Pea soup at stupid-o-clock in the morning just to see if it might make me feel a little better. And I guess there was the time he walked me around the pool on his shoulders because I was a little too sick to get in but was dying to be out there with him. That was so much fun. And of course the time that he let me lay on the floor in his office with him while he did some bill-paying and email-answering and whatnot. Oh, and we can't forget all the times he asked me what I needed or took me out somewhere he thought might sound good and assured me I wasn't allowed to feel the least bit bad about anything because I was sick and deserved some good ol' fashioned TLC. Then there was that morning. Just yesterday morning. Everything came to a head and I was just about to breaking point. It was either early or late or who knows what but I had spent hours and hours laying in bed tossing and turning and wishing I could just pop my head right off so that it wouldn't ache any more. I knew I couldn't make it to work but my phone was dead and I didn't have the number written anywhere else. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut and I started to cry. I stumbled upstairs head between my hands and mumbled something that I'm sure didn't make a whole lot of sense. I know he was in the middle of something work-important but that boy just knows when I need him most and he is always there when I do. He grabbed my hand in one of his and his phone in the other and downstairs we went with a plan. He confirmed to me that I was not to go to work today and that we would find that number if our very lives depended on it [which makes sense - because I'm pretty sure mine did]. He checked the phone book, he checked his phone, he checked my past work emails and told me to check my phone records online - a simple solution I suppose but I wasn't coming up with anything in the state I was in. Sure enough, there it was. I called in sick, threw up a little bit, took some recovery time and when I laid down again this time the boy made sure it was with him next to me. I woke up later feeling better than I had all week long. Refreshed and ready for anything that came my way.
In retrospect Levi says he didn't actually even do much. He says he wasn't sure what to do either, just felt bad and wanted to help. Something about his presence though. It was just knowing that in my worstest moment [because I'm pretty sure that WAS my worstest moment] I could run to him. It was knowing that he'd come running back. It was knowing that he'd have held my hair while I puked if I hadn't locked him out of the bathroom [because come on, we're just not quite there yet]. He's just this object of safety and stability that I never want to lose. It's really just him. Him in all his glory. Him holding me when I'm small. Him applauding me when I'm on the other side. Him lifting me up and filling my heart and plastering my face with smiles. Just him, being him, perfect him.
I love him.
And really, since I was with him. Maybe it wasn't such a bad week after all.
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