ought six
I took part in the first New Years Countdown of my life tonight. Well, okay, it was more like "took part"; I was around one while it was happening.
I did get to kiss who I very much wanted to kiss, at the hour. Which ended up being both nicer, and somehow more important to me, than I'd expected. It was in fact the only thing that really got me out of the house tonight. I'm not yet feeling a need to go on about this new Love in my life. Not here, at least. It's still fresh, and delicate, and private. Mine.
I was a week late, being born. My due date was Christmas day, 1973. I wasn't having any of that, though; I hung on for a week, inside my mother, and just kept growing. She went into labour on New Years Eve, at some point, and I was born at 07:15(ish) on the first day of 1974. It was not, as I understand it, an easy birth. Took a long time, and I got stuck. I was large - 9 pounds 10 ounces (seems like the Robichaud's only really come in Large) and I was 24 inches long. Yes, that's right: two feet long. In the end, after I'm not sure how many hours, I was extracted with forceps. I still have the scars: one high up on my forehead, and another just under my right eye. In a sense, those scars are older than me, which amuses me to no end.
I was the first baby born in New Brunswick for that year. My mother and I had our picture in the paper - exhausted her, hairy & wrinkled me. I think she also got a toaster. Some sort of prize.
I've never liked having Happy Birthday sung to me, never liked having a big deal made out of it at all. Once - one time it was good. My ex threw me a surprise party, a couple days after the 1st. Totally surprised me; she went in to my Palm and grabbed all the numbers she needed to invite my People. And they all came, which was great. When I walked in to her place, and they all yelled out "Happy Birthday!", I stood there, stunned for a second, then looked over at Nic. She had a sort of expectant and somehow sheepish look on her face ("...am I going to get in trouble?") which only got worse when I said, "Nic, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?" Really, I was amazingly touched, and wanted to tell her that in private. It was a good night. I hope I thanked her enough.
Last night I got a rook chess piece - the tower - tattooed on the back of my neck. It's an image that's been around for me, for a long time, and I knew I wanted to get it on me, somewhere, sometime. It's a bit stiff, right now, and still a bit swollen. But I think it's going to be indicative of this year to come. Strength, solidity, building. And also, in the most wonderful way, an opening of the gates.
I did get to kiss who I very much wanted to kiss, at the hour. Which ended up being both nicer, and somehow more important to me, than I'd expected. It was in fact the only thing that really got me out of the house tonight. I'm not yet feeling a need to go on about this new Love in my life. Not here, at least. It's still fresh, and delicate, and private. Mine.
I was a week late, being born. My due date was Christmas day, 1973. I wasn't having any of that, though; I hung on for a week, inside my mother, and just kept growing. She went into labour on New Years Eve, at some point, and I was born at 07:15(ish) on the first day of 1974. It was not, as I understand it, an easy birth. Took a long time, and I got stuck. I was large - 9 pounds 10 ounces (seems like the Robichaud's only really come in Large) and I was 24 inches long. Yes, that's right: two feet long. In the end, after I'm not sure how many hours, I was extracted with forceps. I still have the scars: one high up on my forehead, and another just under my right eye. In a sense, those scars are older than me, which amuses me to no end.
I was the first baby born in New Brunswick for that year. My mother and I had our picture in the paper - exhausted her, hairy & wrinkled me. I think she also got a toaster. Some sort of prize.
I've never liked having Happy Birthday sung to me, never liked having a big deal made out of it at all. Once - one time it was good. My ex threw me a surprise party, a couple days after the 1st. Totally surprised me; she went in to my Palm and grabbed all the numbers she needed to invite my People. And they all came, which was great. When I walked in to her place, and they all yelled out "Happy Birthday!", I stood there, stunned for a second, then looked over at Nic. She had a sort of expectant and somehow sheepish look on her face ("...am I going to get in trouble?") which only got worse when I said, "Nic, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?" Really, I was amazingly touched, and wanted to tell her that in private. It was a good night. I hope I thanked her enough.
Last night I got a rook chess piece - the tower - tattooed on the back of my neck. It's an image that's been around for me, for a long time, and I knew I wanted to get it on me, somewhere, sometime. It's a bit stiff, right now, and still a bit swollen. But I think it's going to be indicative of this year to come. Strength, solidity, building. And also, in the most wonderful way, an opening of the gates.