The baby is like a grapefruit sized knot stuck on top of my intestines. I’m not feeling her kick yet, but the ultrasounds show her in there moving, punching, flipping over constantly. The days where I could go hours and forget I am pregnant are over, and I can no longer fit into my clothes. Mostly, I feel frustrated that I can’t do any of the things I most enjoy – running in the heat of the summer evenings, sun bathing at the beach, enjoying a glass of whiskey and watching the sunset from my front porch & generally subjecting my body to extreme conditions that make me feel alive, free of age, and closer to my youth.
Otherwise, alternating waves of euphoric love and transcendent gratitude capsize my heart, sending it into a deep blue abyss that feels like the safety of eternity. What a beautiful way to bring a dream to life. My baby girl, my oldest and hardest fought dream, is finally here, safe and sound in my belly.
12 years ago today, my father passed away. It’s so weird how significant calendar dates still stir up the same state of mourning.
I was 24, he was 49. It shouldn’t have happened.
I miss him, and feel his loss every day. But I also feel his legacy in many of my thoughts throughout each day.
Dad, if you are out there somewhere, thank you for being such a good daddy. I will always miss you.
Love, innocence, laughter. Where have you gone? If I were to look for you in the sunset, golden, shimmering, would you appear to me? Bony knees against my hardwood floor, morning after morning I have prayed for your quiet return. But you have not. I beg of you, please tell me this is not what living longer is going to be. I cannot bear it without you. Please come back to me.
Remember the other day when I told you that I would give anything to go back in time to when the only thing that mattered to me was to lie next to you in bed, and hold you in my arms? Well, I’ve been thinking. I was wrong. That is still the only thing that really, really matters to me.
My darling. My sweet love. I have known you a while. There have been years between us, months on end in which we lived on different continents, and long periods of estrangement. But, even after all of the hard things that we have said and done to one another – sometimes on purpose, but most times, by accident – even with all of that. It is still February 2009 in my heart. It is still exactly like it was 5 years ago, when I would give every moment of my long, undefined future, just to hold you one more second.
You are my darling, sweet love. You are the one who makes me want to be better, kinder, stronger, more generous, more gracious, less afraid, more alive, and more grateful.
I love you. You are so very beautiful to me.
On November 27, I’ll finally be home. Moving back to the edge of the Earth, by the salt marshes of the steely winter Atlantic Ocean. My beloved harbor. How I have longed to feel the tangles in my hair that are woven by the salty air, whipping my face in the moody, dark season. My seascape! You look like the art from “Where the Wild Things Are”! Dreamlike, timeless, my resonant sky-capped prism. You are a visual thing but you vibrate like a thousand cellos – all played in symphony and with deep yearning.
Oh, how my heart and soul rejoice in your brackish, coarse embrace. I have wholly missed you, my darling sea.
Go for a run after a long day of frustrating work. After about 20 minutes, turn the corner to see the bright yellow-orange sunset as “Ave Maria” by Pavarotti unexpectedly turns up on your playlist.