On the Melding and the Great Whisper: a love story
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On the Melding and the Great Whisper
I spend my day skin on skin, our two little boys clinging. One attention hound takes his hands and holds my face, speaks to me from an inch away so I’ll see His imagination, and the other one nurses like an obsessive compulsive vacuum cleaner.
Isaac is two and talks like a ten year old. I hardly keep up. Jude is only a few months old and what we call a hoss. At two months old, he could flex and roll completely over, aggressive. He has teeth, beautiful boy, wide brown eyes, but my milk turns shy. I fear the latch, his lack of response to any discipline from the biting.
Seth sings them love ballads from the early eighties with such heart. I imagine him with long mullet and tight pants, songs I don’t even remember. We’re happy. We laugh. My house is clean near bedtime. Our pillows lie together. We sleep under same blanket, but I am touch exhausted, so we pray and sleep. This is on repeat.
But the morning comes, and he leaves for the wolves, and I miss him, want to be on vacation, in a hotel far away. With him. But we’re on repeat, the days blurred into a season. They blurred so that we didn’t see the melding, the continuation of two becoming one, as a metaled machine. But the touch, being people intertwined, took prayer.
So daily I did, as prayer isn’t better than with small child. I prayed for desire, that passion that threw us out of reason before marriage, to engage after two months. All day I think about him. I wash his clothes. I watch his boys turn into little versions of him.
And one night, with a bad movie and a good bottle of wine, the desire for desire wins.
I wake early, before the man, before the toddler, before the 4 month old. And in the quiet, morning light bursting yellow on our walls, two pink lines surface and then a flood, tears and unexpected gratitude. How – three babies in three years?
I hold it secret in the long shower,
and I cry, and I hear God speak, like I’m canyon, and he’s great whisper. He says He’ll take care, and I am honored, and I am hungry. I am store-house for promise, only child myself.