Holy Saturday
We celebrated Easter with Trey's family on Saturday, because he works on Sunday nights, so yesterday we trekked out to Whitestone to my mother-in-law's house, with Trey's brother, his wife, and our nearly two-year-old nephew Franco. Trey's grandmother was there as well. It was gorgeous weather and a lovely and loving day.
I love Franco to pieces. We have the same birthday! He is such a sweet, loving, curious boy who can be joy incarnate. Listening to him make up crooning songs in the car and watching him push a button on his musical toy and dance over and over and over is pretty much the greatest thing ever. Baby fever smacked me in waves: waves like a shot of bourbon, opening the hot stove, the palms of your hands and the soles of your feet dissolve into warm velvet, your womb clenches like a fist. I love Franco too because he is so much like Trey. To see them in the same room is to witness a grand continuity of joy.
We looked through my mother-in-law's wedding album. She is a very beautiful woman with delicate features: I loved being able to say to Trey, "If we have a girl she will have the best nose in history." I love being able to look at pictures of my husband's family -- OMG! my family! and see the repeating of phenotypic signatures. Of knowing that one day if I am lucky I will watch my daughter-in law do the same thing.
I love being in the same room with not-yet-two Franco and nearly 90-year old Nana and knowing that none of us is really any different from the other. Franco's soul shines out from his toddler body: he can't articulate what is going on in his head, but shouts out "BA!NA!NA!" with resounding joy. Nana's body is giving out on her: she and my nephew currently occupy two poles of a spectrum of embodiedness.
Oh, how I want a baby -- What grand alchemy! Tertium non data -- the third is not given. I long for my own belly to swell to an excluded middle, a crucible for someone who is at once wholly of our flesh and wholly alien, and who (I had never really thought of this until yesterday!) will outlive my husband and I. Who will have a strange and particular life of his or her very own, much of which may be completely opaque to me forever. It doesn't matter. I am ready to be permeable, I am ready to be mortal, I am ready to be contingent and frail and more.
And so then this morning, funnily enough, I take [thank you Hedwig!] the PersonalDNA quiz. This was my result:
Encouraging Creator
Surprised, yet not. I hope it doesn't get too boring to basically hear me say, "I can't believe it all turned out okay" over and over and over again. But I can't help it. It is the signature of my small life, the one thing I could possibly offer you. The assurance that spring and love and everything are not a nasty bait-and-switch.
That "oh my god, yes, it is possible for it all to be okay."
I love Franco to pieces. We have the same birthday! He is such a sweet, loving, curious boy who can be joy incarnate. Listening to him make up crooning songs in the car and watching him push a button on his musical toy and dance over and over and over is pretty much the greatest thing ever. Baby fever smacked me in waves: waves like a shot of bourbon, opening the hot stove, the palms of your hands and the soles of your feet dissolve into warm velvet, your womb clenches like a fist. I love Franco too because he is so much like Trey. To see them in the same room is to witness a grand continuity of joy.
We looked through my mother-in-law's wedding album. She is a very beautiful woman with delicate features: I loved being able to say to Trey, "If we have a girl she will have the best nose in history." I love being able to look at pictures of my husband's family -- OMG! my family! and see the repeating of phenotypic signatures. Of knowing that one day if I am lucky I will watch my daughter-in law do the same thing.
I love being in the same room with not-yet-two Franco and nearly 90-year old Nana and knowing that none of us is really any different from the other. Franco's soul shines out from his toddler body: he can't articulate what is going on in his head, but shouts out "BA!NA!NA!" with resounding joy. Nana's body is giving out on her: she and my nephew currently occupy two poles of a spectrum of embodiedness.
Oh, how I want a baby -- What grand alchemy! Tertium non data -- the third is not given. I long for my own belly to swell to an excluded middle, a crucible for someone who is at once wholly of our flesh and wholly alien, and who (I had never really thought of this until yesterday!) will outlive my husband and I. Who will have a strange and particular life of his or her very own, much of which may be completely opaque to me forever. It doesn't matter. I am ready to be permeable, I am ready to be mortal, I am ready to be contingent and frail and more.
And so then this morning, funnily enough, I take [thank you Hedwig!] the PersonalDNA quiz. This was my result:
Surprised, yet not. I hope it doesn't get too boring to basically hear me say, "I can't believe it all turned out okay" over and over and over again. But I can't help it. It is the signature of my small life, the one thing I could possibly offer you. The assurance that spring and love and everything are not a nasty bait-and-switch.
That "oh my god, yes, it is possible for it all to be okay."
posted by Lillet Langtry at 11:43 AM
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