Fog is burning off of the massive round of transition that is rapidly approaching my tiny family. That's the thing that matters to me--seeing the transition, not the transition itself. I have a constant chronic case of needing-to-know.
Well, now I know things. Things, she says. Type of human, timing of changes, level of income, a place to nest, a career for S.
I'm caught up to where my heart is! The baby--the boy, he's a boy!--is dancing in me and I'm glad to be getting to know him. I'm past early doubts to unconditional gratitude. S is brilliant, and the pride I feel for that man as he approaches the last months of school with a job offer in tow is chokingly strong. I would choose him over and over and over and over. I'm safe and lifted and content and picturing him as a father until the choking pride turns to choking tears. He works so hard to make sure I know I/we am/are loved. Oh, how I/we love him back.
The long winter has finally extinguished, and blue skies and squelchy mud and hints of regrowth are calling me to my feet, dragging me off the couch again. It's good to move, to move within movements. My insides move, too, in flutters and taps. We all feel the promise of life getting better and stronger. We all do.
