Somehow when my boy is sweet to me, looks after me, cares for me, does something incredibly moving… when he wraps me up like that, it highlights our dynamic, and the contrast is part of what splits me wide open, breaks me into little pieces and shines a spotlight on the differential.
When I am predator and he is prey, he becomes small, soft, like a lion suddenly in a kitten’s tiny fuzzy body, he rolls over and offers up his soft underbelly and it makes aggression leak out of every one of my pores.
When I am vulnerable and he is comfort, he becomes all-encompassing, he covers me with himself, like a wave of tenderness, like he wants to absorb whatever is hurting me, take it from me. I see the kitten still, it is always there, inviting attack, but when I am raw like that, like there is no skin left, like I am some picture in an anatomy book, he binds himself to me, a skin graft, a healing, and somehow, because he is mine, because he is normally looking to me to lead, there is an inexplicable depth of connection in him wrapping me up like that.
Today, he told me something was difficult for him, emotional and sad-making, he chastised himself for finding it difficult, for the way it hurt him. I asked him to do it anyway, because I needed it, because it meant something, because it was important to me. He did it, of course, laying that blanket of tenderness over me, and that is how he cares for me.