Today, I will look at creation. This entry is adapted from a post I made in The Northlands. The original was rougher, more heartfelt, less artful maybe. But here I wear a partial mask. If you want to see the real me, then register at my home and read between those lines.
Anyway, enough – Creation:
My period is late so I wake up this morning I decide I might be (almost definitely) pregnant.
I lie in bed and share the joy of this discovery with Wolf (who is still asleep). Then I get up and take small dog (who shall remain nameless) outside to pee… as I stand in the garden watching the morning sun dapple the leaves I tell my parents, who are thrilled. Their first grandchild, and one they thought they would never have; though deep down I know my father wonders if he will live to see it born.
As I shower I visit doctors and hospitals and have scans that reveal I am having a boy who despite my advanced age is going to be perfect in everyway.
Perfect!
Getting dresssed, I astonish my work colleagues by being the most heroic pregnant boss the world has known. I rarely complain, take not one day sick and am still doing ten hour days during the ninth month. Of course I am a little overdue – this is my first (of many).
I give birth riding to work on the back of Wolf’s motorbike, our pup is born in a local hospital and I didn’t need a single drug. I am tired but beautiful as I gaze at our baby for the first time. I cry when Wolf holds him.
He is such a good baby that by my 10 o’clock coffee break he is sleeping through the night eating solid food, taking his first steps and saying mama (before dada of course). By 11 he has started school and he astonishes the teachers with his brilliance. By lunch my handsome little boy is reading books and using a computer, excelling in all subjects and girls are starting to fall for him (though it is ok if he is gay).
He graduates from high school at the end of lunch and spends a gap year volunteering in developing world orphanages before he goes to University.
I lose him here…
Maybe it is because the time has come for his mum to let him be his own man rather than the man of her dreams.
Maybe it is because it is about this time my period starts and I put this dream away for another month.
I know this is pathetic – but this is as close as I get to creation: art, literature and dreams, month after barren bloody month.
