A definite shift is occurring in my little part of the world. An internal turning, as only must happen when one is seven months pregnant. I’m alone in the house right now, for the first time in many days. It’s funny how used to not being alone, a person can become. Vera was on spring break from school last week and then the followed the pleasant chaos of Easter weekend, and finally it’s a quiet Tuesday morning at home again. Laundry spinning in the dryer, the tick of the coffee machine, KCRW on the radio.
It was honestly kind of startling to slide down from the publication of my book, and back into my life. For weeks all I thought about was the book, coming out, being out, and everything that came back in from it all. And then it suddenly began to taper off and I literally had to shake my head, clear my vision, and take a look at my life again. Ever since, my days have become quieter, the work more consistent and the flow of my thoughts slowly beginning to sift into a different place. I told Greg the other day that I’m just planning to forgive myself the whole summer. Meaning, I know that I’m not going to get anything done.
Or rather, what I will be accomplishing instead will be the introduction of a new person to the world for those first several, warm and lazy months. It’s much easier if I just let go of all expectations now, I think. I have two more months of working hard, having time to myself and my writing, and then I’m just going to let go, knowing that this slow, sweet time will never again occur in my life.
I look at Vera now that she is almost three and cannot believe how fast and slow the time has gone. In the blink of an eye she has transitioned from a helpless infant, into the fiery and opinionated young thing that swirls through my life on an hourly basis. I can’t imagine life without her, and know that everything about the way she has changed my life is about to happen all over again with someone new. This morning in bed, when I thought she’d fallen back asleep with us, I murmured something to Greg about my hips hurting, and Vera wrapped her arms around me and said dreamily, “I’ll take care of you, Momma.”
And I just swooned.
The thing is that I’ve been swooning over my little family a lot lately. Maybe it’s just pregnancy hormones, but I suddenly can’t think of anything I’m more in love with than my husband and daughter and the little life we have together. There have been so many days in the last few years when my attention and energy, particularly my hopes and desires, have dwelled upon more on material things — paying down credit cards, making rent, the elusive owning of a home, publishing a book, getting a job, etc — but lately I’ve gone over this waterfall into not really caring so much about any of that, and rather simply feeling helplessly grateful for all that I have that is, in fact, quite immaterial.
I took the above picture on Easter afternoon, my head and heart so full that I could do nothing but sit on the sand, and watch my husband and daughter before me, while I felt the kicks of a new life within me.