(no subject)
i'm not sure why, but my adventure seems much less exciting than the others happening around me...
i don't always remember feeling like this.
i didn't intend for this to be a real post. part of me thinks writing in this way--and with this medium--is juvenile, and i should break the habit. But the rest of me is here, typing. while my husband and baby sleep on either side of me, while suburban cars and trucks and sprinklers adulter the night outside our window, while my nose chills with the first real touch of Autumn.
And how?
My Boys, i've started to say, fondly. There is still so much i don't know, so many things that are not instinctual or habitual or comfortable.
And then,
there is a lot comfortable. There are many new names that taste good.
We looked at photos from the birth the other day, typical birth photos, mostly. Dad shot a close up of me, topless, exhausted, little blanketed bundle pressed up against my pale chest, smiling the most honest smile i've ever made.
You look so young! John remarked, we scrolled down: him, same blanketed bundle, same honest, exhausted smile.
You look so young. i replied, then : i guess we look young. Hm.
We saw Bev today.
So, how old are you now? she asked me. She does not look 15 years older than she was when i saw her last.
Twenty-one in November.
Oh yes, she smiles, The same age I was.
And did you go to the suburbs? And did you go to the mall?
Oh yes, and I know the looks you are asking about, Baby with a baby, Baby with a baby. Don't mind them, Rhob. Or if you do, say something inappropriate, give 'em hell.
i'm laughing. i have not seen Bev in so long. i feel i have not known anyone so dear. but she left so abruptly.
Apologetically: I have to catch a plane.
i'll walk you out, i say. We reach the end of the drive and i've got that tight-throat feeling. She grasps my arm.
You always were my favourite, she says, I'm very proud of you. And he's a beautiful boy.
i did not think i would have a baby boy. Rob's mum told me i deserved them. Maybe she means so i will one day know what she went through having me home and then not having me home, then hearing of my marriage to another man. They didn't come to the wedding. He didn't come to the wedding.
Well, we were just kids, her son and i.
i guess we look young.
You always were my favourite, Rhob, Give 'em hell.
i don't always remember feeling like this.
i didn't intend for this to be a real post. part of me thinks writing in this way--and with this medium--is juvenile, and i should break the habit. But the rest of me is here, typing. while my husband and baby sleep on either side of me, while suburban cars and trucks and sprinklers adulter the night outside our window, while my nose chills with the first real touch of Autumn.
And how?
My Boys, i've started to say, fondly. There is still so much i don't know, so many things that are not instinctual or habitual or comfortable.
And then,
there is a lot comfortable. There are many new names that taste good.
We looked at photos from the birth the other day, typical birth photos, mostly. Dad shot a close up of me, topless, exhausted, little blanketed bundle pressed up against my pale chest, smiling the most honest smile i've ever made.
You look so young! John remarked, we scrolled down: him, same blanketed bundle, same honest, exhausted smile.
You look so young. i replied, then : i guess we look young. Hm.
We saw Bev today.
So, how old are you now? she asked me. She does not look 15 years older than she was when i saw her last.
Twenty-one in November.
Oh yes, she smiles, The same age I was.
And did you go to the suburbs? And did you go to the mall?
Oh yes, and I know the looks you are asking about, Baby with a baby, Baby with a baby. Don't mind them, Rhob. Or if you do, say something inappropriate, give 'em hell.
i'm laughing. i have not seen Bev in so long. i feel i have not known anyone so dear. but she left so abruptly.
Apologetically: I have to catch a plane.
i'll walk you out, i say. We reach the end of the drive and i've got that tight-throat feeling. She grasps my arm.
You always were my favourite, she says, I'm very proud of you. And he's a beautiful boy.
i did not think i would have a baby boy. Rob's mum told me i deserved them. Maybe she means so i will one day know what she went through having me home and then not having me home, then hearing of my marriage to another man. They didn't come to the wedding. He didn't come to the wedding.
Well, we were just kids, her son and i.
i guess we look young.
You always were my favourite, Rhob, Give 'em hell.