We met in a stuffy ER, me and Herve. I, like a moron, had fallen off a ladder and he – well, Herve had been manufactured and shipped from a distant land never knowing what his fate would be. What are the odds that the two of us would wind up together? (I suppose one in however many they produced, but don’t be a killjoy – let me wax poetically!) Anyway… there we were in a cramped little room, sizing each other up and finding out that we were meant to be.
It’s funny how two parties can view the same moment from such different perspectives. Actually, it is said that in relationship matters there are typically three sides to most stories: his side, her side, and the truth. I guess in our case it should be: his side, his side, and the medical records. When the nurse pulled him from his clear plastic packaging, he smelled like new foam and confinement to me. But to Herve, that moment meant freedom.
I had come with my wife, but we left together, Herve and I. Despite our age gap and all our differences, we decided to spend the holidays together.
It was a little odd bringing him into the home. I wouldn’t say my wife was jealous of how close we had become, but obviously she was slightly uncomfortable with his presence. After all, there had never been another man in our home for days on end and certainly not one so stuck to my side. His being there meant a lot more work for her since Herve and I spent our days lounging lazily on the couch.
With the kids home from college, every bed was full so Herve took the sofa. But when I hobbled out to meet him every morning, he was splayed out on the den floor. I’m not sure what wild things happened during the night, but I don’t judge. He always woke easily with his trademark embrace. That embrace… he is so gentle yet snug and holds tight in all the right places. You know you’ve been hugged when Herve holds you.
Despite his diminutive stature, Herve is incredibly protective. He wraps me inside his padding and Velcro and like a trusted advisor, he always keeps me pointed the right way.
I’m going to miss him.
Christmas is over and we must end too. We knew this wouldn’t last. These little flings never do. I must walk my own road – hopefully soon! Yesterday’s CT results will tell if Herve has done his job. How could he not? He has been so devoted and I feel guilty casting him aside. I just want to run and play like a real boy and Herve… well, I assume he just wants people to quit stepping all over him.
This is where our little fantasy ends, Herve’s and mine.
Happy New Year
May your climbs be ever upward and may your ladders not slip. I pray you have no need for an Herve in 2017. But if you do, I know a devoted little man who would gladly slip into your life.