Do people still cast curses on one another? Is that still a thing?
My third trimester approacheth, and with it, morning sickness. It sucks, yet in the midst of that suckage, there is an opportunity for meditation and awe. (This won’t be too gross, I promise.)
I bought Mamma Zen over the weekend and just this morning read a chapter on time, reflecting on the artificial demarkations of time (for example, day v. night, which cease to exist with someone whose stomach can only hold four oz).
A first pregnancy is a fruitful time for advice, I was soon warned after the stick turned blue.
I love to sing. I don’t purport to be awesome, but on most days, I can hold my own. I love karaoke and when I’m alone in my car on a road trip, girl, I am on STAGE!
Wee Evelyn awoke from her afternoon nap and blinked into the afternoon sunlight, trying to orient herself. The unmoving puppy Pa was there, the blanket ja-ja was there… where was her ninny, her pacifier?
Clutching ja-ja ever tighter, she looked down, hoping to spot it down by her feet. She kicked aside the bootie that had come off her foot to clear out a potential hiding place, to no avail. She exchanged a worried glance with Pa, who told her with a look that he didn’t know where it was either.
This is a true story, and it was something I entered for a Writing Contest.
The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms, 1929
I don’t remember much of that time in ’97, but I do remember when my doctor told me I couldn’t have children. The pins holding the bones of my shattered pelvis together would puncture my uterus as a child grew.