You Want to Make a Memory

I have a rare two hours in our apartment BY MYSELF. I don't know what to do with myself.

Honestly, I love Biker Boy. I adore him. I dream of him. I dream of his babies. I dream he someday lets me get a dog. He lets me keep a blanket with tiny ducks all over it on our bed. He lets me listen to Bruce Springsteen eight days a week. He has a weird (but strangely appealing) habit of buying samples of perfume to try out and then telling me smell him at random intervals throughout the day. He doesn't mind that I occasionally leave the house before he wakes up and don't come home until he's ready for bed. He is the most important person in my life.

But, every once in a while, I just want to be alone. I want to be able to listen to bad Bon Jovi and rock out without knowing that someone in the next room is (silently) judging me. I want to follow up the bad Bon Jovi with some sad country songs by chicks with names like Julie Roberts and Rebecca Lynn Howard. I want to crank up Taylor Swift. I know she's flat. I know it. Girl can't quite hit those notes. But she's spunky.

I want to say I'm preparing my lecture on the normal distribution and standard scores, but really just sit at my computer and watch the screen saver of my media player. I want to eat potato chips and dip and call it dinner. I want to leave my school bag on the floor in front of the door and not fear someone will trip over it. I want to sit down and cry when I think about how I don't know what the next six months will bring us.

I want to look at the new picture of Bestest Friend's baby and just wonder, if somewhat quietly, what a baby would look like with Biker Boy's chin and my hairline.

And, tonight, thankfully, I got those two hours. And when Biker Boy comes home, I will give him a big, big kiss and be thankful for the fact that I don't have those hours alone all the time.