The Time Of Year When Winter And Spring Come Together In Lloyd

The Time Of Year When Winter And Spring Come Together In Lloyd

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Just Keep Safe

I don't know. I think I've been sick for awhile now. I wake up every morning with my head stopped up and thick with bleariness and the weather isn't helping as it's the same dense wet gray as my brain and the branches of the trees reach out with witchy intent and the firespike is dead, brown, rotten, ugly, ugly, ugly.
I went to bed last night before nine o'clock. Yes. I did. I was completely bone tired, blood tired, exhausted, even though Mr. Moon helped me with the boys yesterday and thank god he did. I couldn't have done it without him. Gibson can do so big now, raising his hands up to grasp each other above his head and he is so happy with that. He loves the things he can do with his hands, wave hello and good-bye, clap them, eat popcorn, piece by piece. We played a game for a long time yesterday wherein put his hand in my mouth and grasped my lower jaw and made my head go up and down.
I was Gibson's puppet.

 He is growing and learning at the speed of sound. He walked all over the house, balancing himself by pushing the little trike. He races after his brother on hands and knees and giggles like a toy when Owen licks him which we plead with Owen not to do because...ick.
"He likes it, "Owen says. "See? He laughing."
And Owen. Oh god, that boy.
He did his hiding thing yesterday while I was giving Gibson a bottle and Boppy was in another room for a minute, a second. I hate that. Hate it. I fly through the house, calling his name, pleading with him to come out. This house has miles of rooms and halls and the upstairs and a billion doors to the outside and there he was, behind the door in the library and I cried when he came out. "Oh Owen! I thought we'd lost you!" and I was sore afraid.

Lily bathed them after supper and she put Owen in his pajamas and whirled him around on her shoulders like a helicopter and I got the giggling boy into his pajamas and we bundled them into their car seats and off they went into the night to home and I collapsed and went to bed. Done. Gone. Asleep. Probably before they were.

My head, my brain, my old tired body, the gray. There is this.


And there is this.



And this morning we're off to the wedding dress places, the places of veils and silks and chiffons and taffeta and the mirrors and did you know I have written at least half a novel about a woman who makes wedding gowns? I have. It has a wonderful beginning and at least fourteen middles and no ending.
Sigh.

Well.

Vergil just gave Jessie another Christmas present. A necklace of moonstones and it is beautiful and she is beautiful, the bride-to-be, she giggles like Gibson and I need to shower and put on clothes I can wear to town and let the dead firespike be and the laundry, leave it, leave it, and we'll have lunch. We'll be ladies who lunch, May and Lily and Jessie and Melissa and me.

Owen was not really lost, but merely, as he said, "peek-a-booing" and has no idea why we were so upset he was right there, right THERE, and so clever, we came and went through the library and never saw him and I told him that he has no idea how much I love him, NO IDEA, and he doesn't but someday, he will. It makes no sense, our fear of a loved one just disappearing, it is perhaps one of our deepest fears, it resides in the bones next to the exhaustion, next to the heart by our love and our pumping blood. When you have a child the blood pumps out a new message, never before heard or felt,  which is keep the baby safe, keep the baby safe, keep the baby safe, and every breath we take after that is a whisper of that prayer, that command.

Don't let me lose anyone. Oh not today, not ever.

Good morning.

Good morning from Lloyd.

13 comments:

Angella said...

Once again you plumb the depths of my heart. Feel better today. Today you don't have to drive the engine. You can be a delighted passenger. And would love ot hear more about the novel!

Steve Reed said...

I really don't think I could ever stand to have a child for just that reason. As great as the rewards are, the risk would seem intolerable!

ellen abbott said...

mine are long grown, grandkids nearly grown. when we still lived in Houston and next door to kids and grandkids, my grandson was always the first up and he would let himself out and come next door to his grandparents and visit with us. Does your mama know you are here I would ask. and then she would wake up, not be able to find him and come flying over looking for him. she would be so mad but it never stopped him.

Elizabeth said...

I imagine you're "run down," what with all the cooking and cleaning and holiday schmaliday stuff. I feel the same -- sick, kind of, sort of -- just barely, but not good at all. I haven't been to yoga in months or my Chinese doctor or exercised and feel it immensely. New year coming up -- new year coming up.

Love to you and have fun today.

Jill said...

Good morning Ms. Moon. You have led us all to love those boys through your love.

Have a lovely time with the ladies. I just know it will be another beautiful memory for you all.

Andrea said...

So full of love you are.
About the novel: how about closing your eyes and choosing a middle, any middle? The end will then come. You're a writer. It doesn't matter so much what happens. Look at us. We'd follow you anywhere. It's the writing and the heart that count.
Having the time may be another matter...
Be well.

Mama D said...

Ain't that the truth. The prime directive: 'keep the baby safe!'

Petit fleur said...

I am neurotically familiar with that blood chant.. "Keep him safe".... sigh.

The kiddos sound like they're growing fast. I hope you and the ladies have a fine day of shopping.

Much love,
m

beth coyote said...

Here's where I check in, check back in, put my feet on the floor and say, ok, I'm home again among the cats and chickens and silly white dog at my house and Mermer and the boys and the wedding and Mr Moon at her houses.

Dear Mary-as soon as I can, I'm putting a jar of grape jelly in the mail to you. Because you're part of my family.

XXXX Beth

Nicola Hensel said...

"keep the baby safe, keep the baby safe..." Again! Stop it Ms Moon, I'm running out of superlatives. But yes that drumbeat started in me so long ago and I marvel, you're so right, it still beats quietly without a break. It'll be a last breath kind of thing won't it? I'm getting a bit addicted to your daily posts. there are so many laughing, sighing "me too!" moments to be had.

heartinhand said...

Feel better soon, Ms. Moon!

Ms. Moon said...

Angella- It was a beautiful day and I didn't even get worn out. I just sat around and cried and laughed and made lewd jokes.
I need to revisit that damn novel.

Steve- There have been moments when I honestly wished I hadn't had children. They were the moments when one of them's lives were in peril. I can't even think about it.

Ellen Abbott- Oh, if Owen lived next door, he would always be here. I know he would.

Elizabeth- We have NOT been taking care of ourselves. It is time to begin, darling.

Jill- It is going to be one of the best memories.

Andrea- The time, yes. The time. And the spirit. Oh, it is my greatest regret that I haven't made my writing more of a priority.

Mama D- It's truly overpowering. And thus- the species continues.

Ms. Fleur- We DID!

Beth- And I will send you something back because you are my family.

Nicola- I wish I knew something about YOU. But I am so glad you're here. We have a lovely, lovely community. Be part of it.

heartinhand- I am fine. I swear. I am. Thank you.

Syd said...

Yes, that's the fear--to lose someone I love. But it will happen, and that is what none of us knows. So it's another good reason to live in this day. I have to or I project all kinds of things about loss of those I love.