This morning was a time for the books- a high quality morning of a day off for both Ricky and myself.
The sun gazed a cool, September overlook among the questionable neighborhood I live in.
YellowBelly’s chirps and melodies reverberated volumes throughout the apartment.
The GameCube ran Animal Crossing hours on end, killing any anxiety that might have been lingering.
Ricky rolled out of our king sized sleeperbefore I did around 1pm. I was greeted by the smell of pumpkin spice coffee and a loud, high-pitched “good morning!” From Ricky, my wonderful jubilant happy man. His gray trailer park boys shirt was blotched dark with dish water where he was halfway through washing the dishes.
I embraced his large, barrel chest clumsily, with a loud thud and a “Hibst!”
I used so much force he rocked back on his heels to keep himself from falling backwards.
I could hear YellowBelly chirping quietly under the navy silk sheet covering his cage- he was ready for his morning song from his mother, and so was the rest of the family.
I slowly slid off his sheet and he bounced off his swing, flitting from one place to the next. His chirping grew louder and louder in volume.
I greeted YellowBelly with my usual shrieking “Good MORNING! Good Mor-NING!” And he got really excited and started to lose his shit. He started to virbrado his chirps a bit. Ricky started laughing in delight in the background.
“Gooooooooood…. morning, good morning! I have to let you knoooooowwwwwwwww…….” I paused for a second. His chirping and fleeting never stopped.
“Good morning, good morning, to you! Wooooo! YellowBelly! It’s going to be a great fucking day!” I cheered, which is my usual song and chant.
Ricky stood in the kitchen, drinking in my cheerful songs energy. “Aw, hib..”
One of his knuckles were steady dripping Palmolive suds at his side while the other gripping pink around pumpkin spice coffee mug at his lips.
Raisin, our sticky-bald hairless cat, mewed loudly for my attention while posted up on the cat tree, her hip bones dancing from side to side. She has these curly tortellini ears that I have decided are little pesto listeners. She gets a tiny tiger half can of wet food mixed with salmon oil, ground up mussel for a joint supplement, and raw instinct food topper when we get up in the morning, sometimes the extras at dinner.
This is it- this is my tittle family at almost 29 years old, and what a fulfilling, childless family it is. I’m perfectly happy with the apartments company, and I wouldn’t wish it any different. Ricky instinctively knows how to make this house a home, and I have enough room in my heart to house everyone snug and warm,
Content and loved.
Ricky Edward Humerick, Raisin Aioli McGoo, and YellowBelly McGee. Eternally loved by their mother and partner.
I’ve made up my mind, from what I feel in my heart. Ricky is here to stay and he is family. He takes care of me when I’m sick and doesn’t judge, while working when I cannot to provide for us. He’s my hero, and while I put aside my doubts of being betrayed in the most heinous ways a long time ago, I can’t help but envision growing old together in our partnership and chemical relationship. I am utterly and genuinely (and safely) head over heels in love with this fine specimen of masculinity. He’s loyal and true. His heart beats for me, and he has also made up his mind for what he feels in his heart.
Plus we keep each other very happy. Very, very romantic moments fill our days, weeks, and months 🥰 it’s been a very wholesome 4 and some months together, but it feels like status quo for a lot longer. Oh how I love him…