the nook

the nook - n. A small corner, alcove, or recess, especially one in a large room. A hidden or secluded spot.

This morning I had a thought - she's sleeping in the same bed as every man I have ever loved! Then I giggled. She was sound asleep and I got up to go to the toilet. Some toothpaste and a drop of eye-cream later I touched my face with my hands. I felt my eyes, my wrinkles and my eyebrows - there's that hair sticking out again. Then I closed my eyes to think. I thought of the nook. The nook is that small, comfortable place between a man's chest and his belly. The enclosed and secure cave of solitude and complete safety that's created by some chest hair and the warm breath of a man. I used to be in the nook. I used to be secure in the nook, breathing comfortably, taking in his scent - a mixture of summer nights' sweat and refreshing deodorant sprinkled with some skin smell. His own!

To put everything in order, I had to retrace my thoughts. Almost like tracing a criminal's steps. I seem to have grown some nose hair. I pluck them out and consider going back to bed to think strategically about my morning early thoughts. Instead the smell of the morning dew draws me to the balcony - it rained last night, everything glistens with droplets of hydrating pearls, the smell of mint travels up the nostrils and suggests a beautiful morning of thoughts. The spoon swirls around my coffee cup and I fall in a pensive state. Reminiscing the times when I used to curl up like a sparrow, the warm feathers of his companion would offer warmth and comfort, I sipped my coffee and allowed the hot liquid to burn my tongue. It was almost pleasurable, my mum shakes her head when I do that. Immediately I traveled to his arms. Any mans' arms. A difficult concept to grasp by most today, a body seeks comfort, it requires to be taken into the deep blue waters of the ocean and left to levitate in serenity. Once there was the professor - his arms were hairy, his breath warm, with a distinct smell of mint. Clear white teeth and an extremity of a smile. His nook was comfortable - warm, security was a standard. Sometimes our bellies would touch and he would tickle me - an after game with increased sensuality and improving care. Then there was the wine maker, more in touch with the earth - his hands roughened by the soil, the earth was his mother and I was the seed of this growing oak tree. A strong yet tender nook - more stable and far more secure than the previous one, it offered me endless evenings of happiness. The way I curled up - I shoved myself forcefully into the nook, safely tucked away into a nest of clouds. La vie en nook... I sought the end of the rainbow and found it in his arms. His chest was hairless, soft and smooth - like the rest of his body. I sensed aromas of cinammon, some aftershave and black vanilla from a well known department store. Those were the nooks...

My mum got up a little while later. I made some coffee for her - I love making her coffee as it springs a smile on her face thats worth a million dollars. I wish i could tell her about the nook - the security it offered me and the emotions that fly around in my head this morning. Her coffee isnt sweet enough - she complains. She always loved her coffee sweet. I always loved my nook warm and secure. What would it be like to tell her about the nook? Has she ever felt the warmth of the nook herself? Would she understand my need for the nook?

I seek the nook. I seek the chest that pumps heartbeats into mine. A pillow stuffed with feathers of a duck, perhaps a pillow of clouds that flow about like the scarf of a fairy. Its great to have your own nook - its almost like a house. I wish there was a bank thats handing out loans to get your own nook. Or perhaps if you had 100 McMeals you could get your own free McNook.

My mint has risen from the soil, its evolved from seeds to plant and it smells nice. Thats what love can do. Summertime in love. We agreed on making some pasta with pesto sauce today. I'll get the tablecloth.