corners of our home

We’ve been doing a bit of patching up here and there, ticking little jobs off, tidying up, and generally trying to get in control of the house lately. Here are a few little corners of our home I thought I’d share with you today…

A Memory

I was tidying up this morning and stumbled across an old notebook. I found an entry inside dated 10 September 2010, Baby was five months old. I thought I would share it with you today.

A single tear drifts across the bridge of your nose as you suck. A gentle dance along your smooth skin. You’re lying sideways, longways. Horizontal.

A perfect palm lays across my breast. Skin to skin. Warm. I can feel the outline of your tiny hand on my warm skin. Gentle pressure. Slight, unconscious movements. Your perfect face is barely moving but for shallow breaths. Inside your mouth your tongue pulls at my nipple, bringing forth abundance. 

Your eyes are closed but just moments ago they curled and rolled with the most basic of pleasures. The very heart of humanity and beauty and life itself is caught in this single moment.

This one single moment of truth, of real, of substance.

Nothing else matters. 

A Tune for a Time

I found an old CD in the glovebox of my car today.

It was labelled “lucy ’09”. I wondered what this pre-baby, pre-motherhood, potentially even pre-pregnancy lady would have put on a CD in 2009. Even though it was not very long ago, 2009 feels like a lifetime away from now.

It’s amazing how music can link you to a memory, a feeling or just a particular time or place in your life. The music brought back the feeling of a time in my life when we were beginning to think about having a family, the distinct aura of change was in the air. The songs on this CD reminded me of the young woman I was just two and a half years ago, full of wonder and uncertainty about what the next step would bring. And now I know.

Here is the first song I heard when I played the CD in my car today on my way home from work…

This Time One Year Ago

A tiny, wrinkly, soft baby was in my arms.

I had no bloody clue what to do.

She slept and woke and drank.

I stared at her wondering where she came from.

She curled her fingers around my fingers.

She looked around with fuzzy eyes, kind of in my direction but not really.

I spent hours awake with her in the deep dark night.

She didn’t know about day and night, light and dark.

If I put her down she kicked her legs.

She cried.

If I picked her up and held her close she rested her cheek on my chest, my shoulders.

And slept.

And slept.

And woke.

And slept.

I stared at her some more.

In wonder.

And awe.

I couldn’t comprehend.

That she was mine.

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