blather
womb_events
nineteen I want to feel the new, clumsy arms reaching out to me. The sticky infant warmth, the gurgling, the crying, the tiny body curling and yawning and sleeping. I want the potty training, I want to be scrubbing carpet stains (the inevitable commonness of scrubbing that follows a birth), teaching, letting go, helping, sharing, watching.

I want that. And if I end that before it happens, I will always think of the thing I let go. Eradicated. I mean that I will think of the sticky tiny little pink fingers that I eradicated.

So I'm sorry about what happens from here.
060124
...
squint interesting.

And what I should say Now? To be sorry? That I wanted, I did want, I was in want of more for you. and for me. For him. I can do this, but I am sorry for not finishing the rest of my life first. I am not one continuous line.

So I'm sorry for what happens from here. Now.
060706