She was due to have a cesarean in five days’ time. Unlike the first
time, the doctor did not even consider a spontaneous birth. They were lucky
nothing happened last time. This time, they scheduled a cesarean right
from the start. Even so she was worried about complications.
So, late this evening she gathers up all her diaries. Carrying down two
boxes full from the attic to the living room. Alone, before the fire in the
fireplace, she stacks twenty years of her journals like pillars around her and
her belly. She reads about the past happenings of her life… her rebellious youth,
her “biker chick days”, her countless and reckless numbers of lovers…
especially considering that was the AIDS era… until finally finally falling
in love with a good man.
She sips her herbal tea, Quiet Lullaby, reads each journal… page by page…
memory upon memory… at the end of each journal… she throws it into the fire and
raises her tea cup up to the gods and gives a cheer.
(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)
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