I watch 'House' occasionally. I don't read House fics, and of course, you make me do, of all people.
And then you do this to me, and now I'm totally heart broken. This is gorgeous, and painful and completely realistic --- part of it, that's so good about it is that you don't really need to watch House to read and understand this.
And this,
She was too old, really – she liked longer books and more complicated stories and liked to read them herself, to you; liked to wear your glasses and your heels and say things like ‘I have a board meeting’ and then giggle. She liked turning off her own light and pouring her own cereal and piling up your budget reports in the chair so she could be as tall as you. She liked packing her own backpack and remembering her own lunch and buckling her own seatbelt. But she also liked it when you carried her through the clinic, when you let her play in your office during meetings, so long as she was quiet. She liked it when you held her hand in crowded places.
And at night when it was just a little too dark and her room was just a little too big, she liked your down comforter and large pillows and open arms. She liked the softness of your voice, and you loved it when she read along with you, eyes closed with the words imprinted in her mind and breathing soft, ‘Quiet is the star. Quiet is the street. Quiet are the slippers on your feet.’ (She loved it when you grabbed her toes and made her squeal and defeated the purpose of the goodnight story.) You loved it when she nestled closer as you kissed her forehead, said goodnight; you loved falling asleep with her in your arms, and waking up the same.
tht's one of those pharagraphs I won't be able to forget.
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Date: 2009-12-27 10:18 pm (UTC)And then you do this to me, and now I'm totally heart broken. This is gorgeous, and painful and completely realistic --- part of it, that's so good about it is that you don't really need to watch House to read and understand this.
And this,
She was too old, really – she liked longer books and more complicated stories and liked to read them herself, to you; liked to wear your glasses and your heels and say things like ‘I have a board meeting’ and then giggle. She liked turning off her own light and pouring her own cereal and piling up your budget reports in the chair so she could be as tall as you. She liked packing her own backpack and remembering her own lunch and buckling her own seatbelt. But she also liked it when you carried her through the clinic, when you let her play in your office during meetings, so long as she was quiet. She liked it when you held her hand in crowded places.
And at night when it was just a little too dark and her room was just a little too big, she liked your down comforter and large pillows and open arms. She liked the softness of your voice, and you loved it when she read along with you, eyes closed with the words imprinted in her mind and breathing soft, ‘Quiet is the star. Quiet is the street. Quiet are the slippers on your feet.’ (She loved it when you grabbed her toes and made her squeal and defeated the purpose of the goodnight story.) You loved it when she nestled closer as you kissed her forehead, said goodnight; you loved falling asleep with her in your arms, and waking up the same.
tht's one of those pharagraphs I won't be able to forget.