There is something that has been bugging me about our chalice–lighting. It began with Mythankfulboy’s decision not to sleep inside his covers, but on top of them with throw blankets as his cover. He did this for two reasons: one, so that throw blankets were all he/we had to wash and he/we didn’t have to deal with fitted sheets (or “feta cheese”, if you believe speech–to–text), and two, so that he could move his head to the other end of the bed which was closer to all things technological. This required his moving his fan to a stool next to the bed (near what would most people be considered the foot of the bed). This domino effect continued until there was no place for me to stand or sit anymore anywhere close to him, so I found myself pacing around uncomfortably while doing the chalice–lighting, while he was snug as a bug in a rug. My discomfort was pushing me out the door before we really connected around the chalice. Something had to change.
So, last night I called him into the living room to discuss a change of plan. I suggested that we re-route some of his cords and move his stuff (I believe I said “crap”) so that I could sit in the desk chair at the foot of his bed for the thankfulness ritual. I warned him this would mean I would probably reach out and stroke his hair affectionately from time to time. He said this was all doable.
I am happy to report that the plan worked. He had so much to tell me about his day and his friends that I finally had to put my foot down and say we really needed to do the actual chalice. He was grateful last night for wine glasses. He had made me laugh earlier in the night by walking through the living room with apple juice in a wine glass held aloft with the wine glass stem tucked between his middle and ring finger and his hand cupping the bottom of the cup. When I asked him what he was doing, he said he “needed a change of pace”. I was thankful for Severus Snape and the brilliant man, Alan Rickman, who brought him to life off the pages of the Harry Potter book series. A moment of silence fell, and, as I rose to go I told B I loved him. He said, “Aren’t you going to stroke my hair?”
So I sat back down, with love and gratitude.