It's when the sheets are dried and you've tried your best and finally said "fuck it" to properly folding the fitted one and tossed one soft clean square and one rolled-up rectangle into the basket in the hall not so neatly, and the shiny wooden floors are swept and mopped and chicken bones are scraped off the old plates into the trash, the cats fed and the papers stacked, the bills that'll just have to wait are shoved into a corner on the counter, the homework checked, the doors locked up tight.....that it's finally time to slip casually away from the bickering teenagers into the warm shower and pee into the drain, shave yourself all smooth and slick, dry with the towel that still smells like the first spring sun, slip into his flannel and sigh, remember how it was yesterday when he pulled you down beside him at lunch. When you lie there naked at noon and everything stopped for an hour. When time slowed down just enough to let it all go. All the whirring and buzzing of computers and traffic and even the chaos in your mind shut down completely, leaving nothing the smell and taste of him, the aching of your want, the lust and exposing all of that pent-up energy wound up tight and launched like a rocket with just a few brief, brilliant moments to let it flow. That is what you think about when you pat the moody one on the head and tousle the hair he won't cut and tell the older boy goodnight and I love you even though you know he won't say it back. You will say it and say it and say it anyway. You push your toes into the cool of the sheets, the white cat curled up against your belly, the one that will meow you awake in the middle of the night but that feels like decent company now. You will push the day's frenzy away embrace the warm center in the middle of it all. You will remember the joy of your fingertips on his warm skin and your lips barely touching his as you arch against him, a lifetime of passion rushing from your clit and your gut and your lungs in an exchange of pure, unfiltered lust that leaves you spent. Leaves you floating against his bare chest, the sound of his strong heart thudding softly in your right ear. Leaves you slightly damp, even as you crawl back into the fray, merge onto the onramp. And when you wake up in the night, dazed from the midnight carousing of runaway thoughts, you will pat the bed covers, searching, heart racing. You'll come to your senses, inhale, press your face against the pillow, will yourself back to sleep, and be thankful, ever thankful for the scent of him that still lingers in your hair.