There was a moment yesterday, with a fire crackling and banana bread batter and orchestra music. I looked out my kitchen window to a world washed in snow, the house sudsed up and trees dripping in glistening bubbles and my soul was the same. For that brief moment, everything felt new but transported back to when things seemed simple – when I felt like the “me” I didn’t know. The baby called…I went to her and replaced the fallen pacifier…a log fell in the fire and I haggled with the wire mesh to let me in so I could stoke her raging beauty. Much better. Everything back in it’s place. The kitchen was full of simmering onion smell, potato and carrot stew bubbled , the oven beeped letting me know the bread could go in. Not a thought in my mind except these here, written on the page. I write in my head all day long – I tell myself what I’m doing.
The baby calls again and I pick up her wriggling pink body. I find the closest arm chair, the brown one, and sit down with her. I hold her awkwardly in my right arm as my left hand tries to undo my nursing bra. Her head bobbles from side to side, piercing blue eyes teasing my breast, coaxing my milk to let down. Her cobra head darts in and takes hold of my nipple, gentle sucking – I lay my head back and feel the tingling, the release of my milk…I envision creamy white fluid making its way down through a jungle of veins, twisting and turning over and under until it finds it’s escape into her mouth. She sucks faster and I hear deep swallowing and her body relaxes into me. A few more deep gulps and she turns towards me, releasing my breast – her mouth smiles and milk runs down her chin and I want to say “your wasting my effort” but it’s not a waste because it brings her pleasure. Her eyes are like two columbines set perfectly in her face…they are completely symmetrical and glowing. She stares at my eyes – I wonder what she thinks. She continues looking, as if waiting for my queue, my words, my thoughts, my commands. I imagine her mind racing but empty, and I envy her. To go back to that time when you could just be as you are, content and naked with milk running down your lips. I want to say to her “don’t wait for a queue, to wish to be filled by others, just be….please just be.” She smiles again as if we shared a secret and turns back to her meal.
She’s content now so I sit her in her cozy seat and snuggle the grey flannel blanket around her legs. Her arms swing back and forth awkwardly and I watch her fly. I know that’s what I’ll always be doing now – watching them fly. I stand in the middle of my dining room staring out at the pine tree topped with 6 inches of snow and I imagine being under it when the wind blows. I feel the coolness hitting my head and the ice sliding down my coat and my eyes sprinkled with frozen dust and it feels very invigorating…very alive. I wonder if I will ever do that….find my way to that pine tree just 50 yards away and stand under it.
The song on the speaker changes and a violin and piano battle each other beautifully. The baby wants me so I pick her up and hold her close. She looks up at me again with those flower eyes and I smile at her and she giggles at me. My heart pounds faster and I know I have to dance. We twirl and a laugh bubbles up from deep in her tiny body. My feet feel the hardwood and my hair brushes again her face and we twirl. She laughs again and I feel dizzy with the happiness of this moment…with the simplicity of fires and potatoes and violins and baby laughs. Here I am, myself…with a braid fighting to get free and a shirt covered in baby offerings and a heart open to the moment. It feels wonderful and I just keep dancing so I can hear her laugh.