September 14, 2009
My favorite tree. It nearly stretches to our back stoop, and its bottom-most leaves are shoulder-level.
As E and I like to sit under it occasionally, I have been praying its root system is much stronger than that of its neighbor’s.
The path, late May.
The path, early September.
Last night, when I was picking up some fixins for jambalaya, Marshall spotted a red-tailed hawk flying past our windows. He approached the back room slowly with the camera, and sure enough, it was perched on the railing. It looked straight at him through the back door.
But didn’t seem to care much.
September 2, 2009
We’ve lived in four places. We’ve had five different jobs. We’ve been to fourteen weddings (at least). We’ve made one baby.
We are giving, creative people, and going on three years, those abilities are put to the test. We are constantly needed by our child, so we adjust and readjust how we communicate with each other in creative ways, so that we still have something to give to each other at the end of the day. Some nights, as Everett plays on the floor, Marshall relaxes on one couch and I on the other. I can’t help but see slender ribbons stretching from my body to Everett’s, from M’s body to Everett’s…
I fell in love with Jane Eyre in early high school, the sweeping, unexpected romance. I remember my heart swelling when Mr. Rochester tells Jane that if she leaves, his heartstrings will be stretched until they are broken. Someone in college once told me they thought Jane Eyre was cheesy—something they would’ve liked as a teen, but not now, as they’re reading it for class. I shrugged and reconsidered my emotions and decided that they were valid. Especially now as I see our boy between us, the slender heartstrings stretched between the three of us. I am still in disbelief that we created a human. I’m still amazed that my heartstrings laced to Marshall are able to expand and be linked to another person, so tiny, in another relationship of a completely different kind.
Speaking of giving and creativity, or creative giving, if you will, I wanted to share the HOOPS story. Late December last year, when Everett was with us but hidden in my enormous uterus, we went out on a big date. I wore my wedding earrings, pretty little sparkly things, but M thought my hoops would look better with my outfit. So I went to the bathroom and slid the five-dollar slender pair from Claire’s in and off we went. In the middle of dinner, M tossed a jewelry box on the table and said, “Happy pushing gift!” I openedup the box, thrilled that I had gotten the white gold hoops I had hinted about, and then he pointed to my ears. “You’ve already been wearing your gift for awhile now, actually,” he said. He had swapped my cheapo earrings with the nice ones back at home and I hadn’t even noticed.
I wore them through the entire 17-hour labor. I wanted to rip everything off me by the end—the IV, the epidural stuff, the monitors and the itchy tube top that held them in place, the cuff, the gown—but the hoops didn’t bother me one bit.
(I’ve posted these elsewhere before…but they’re HOOPS proof!)
Here’s to many more years of creativity, of hard work, of giving, of pushing through to the end.