not so long ago

That weekend we turned the bed into a raft in the middle of the oceanic chaos of life. Dressed in pajamas that doubled as tatters from our shipwrecks, we pulled up buckets of food from the market downstairs and ate them with our hands. During the day we played games with dice and told stories we'd gathered from other sailors, other shipwrecks. The dragons and the sirens that circled us were visible, horrible terrors, but I trusted the safety of our vessel. You found chocolate in a kit that floated by and fed it to me in small bittersweet squares. From time to time the waves of our narrow escape washed over the edges and at night we held fast to each other in the center of the raft, safe and dry while our dreams rocked us to sleep. Nightmares, too, to be fair, but we weathered the storms. We did not even hoist a flag; we did not expect or wish to be rescued. So happy were we to still be alive and together that we did not think beyond that moment, or at least I did not. On the last day we woke and I thought we would create a new island and explore it together, more adventures and maybe stories around a campfire, the structure of our imaginary world was already taking beautiful shape in my mind. In my heart. And you turned to me and said, "I'm not like you. I never wanted to spend the whole weekend in bed in my pajamas."