The twenty six hours with the mans son had ended. I guess it had only just dawned on hIm. He felt lucky to have been asked to collect him early even though the boy had been under the weather. There had been more luck at the time of returning him as an extension was requested by his mother. 
The man had cuddled and laughed with his son more times that weekend than he counted. A bond, an amazing understanding and sharing of jokes was there but hard to explain. The little boy had left his fathers side twice during this time together. Once to play whilst his dad cooked tea when the father had listened to the animated conversations from the kitchen. The second time was when the boy asked to play in his bedroom. The man had not wished to disturb his boys play, but was left redundant, sat in the adjacent bedroom looking lost without his friend. Pathetic? 
Independence is very important to the man and wants it to pass to his son but when the man himself is on the receiving end of being sidelined, he doesn't like it. 

So once alone, the man preceded to catch up on the half watched programmes which he deemed important before he took a hot bath. His legs were red under the water. What damage to a body was this doing? It couldn't be healthy. But he read and was happy doing so. It took a lot of motivation to read at times. But once it was underway the man always made a promise to himself that he would do it more frequently. 
The man rose from the still hot water and with one palm scraped the steam from the old mirror. An old face looked back. The red face took a second to recognise. The hairline was receding and with it swept backwards there was no hiding it. The silence of the house was deafening. 
Bedtime was unwelcome every Sunday evening. 
The routine of the week was welcome once underway but never on a Sunday. 

Alcohol had been mentioned this weekend as the man had attended a little get together with a friend at the friends workplace. It was just gone 5 months now since alcohol had entered the mans system. 
"Oh I don't even think about it now" had erupted from the mans lips. He had meant and believed it as the words sat awaiting to be spewed out. But once they left his lips, it seemed not as true. 
It was thought of in the company of others. As he had spoken he could smell and see wine being poured. 
Later now, he thought of it as he wrote. But the truth still stood. As much as he would probably enjoy a drink, it would be back to the downward spiral and it just would be such an obstacle in his driving based life as it was these days. 
Maybe when his son had well and truly stopped playing with his father and visits were far down the list of important duties to the boy. Then, yes maybe then, would the liquid devil seep into the innards of this frail spirit. It's pollutants firing the creativity anew. But the demons laying dormant, along with them. 

2011.