Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.

Once, when I was pregnant with Oliver, Harry took me to the zoo. I will never forget the way I couldn't stop looking at the sky--I started this habit when Chris and Tuck were born and haven't gotten rid of it since--and how it seemed so base without clouds. The day was cold and too bright, like the fluorescent lights in a dream, and I held on to Harry's hand desperately all day. On the car ride there, he would smile and say kind things to me. We're getting married soon, and aren't you excited? or I know you're scared. So am I. Write about it when you get home. I turned my head to stare at him, and with that brightness shining in through the car, hitting me in the face, he realized talking was taboo. We saw the flamingos, the hippos, the monkeys, but we had the most fun with the tiny little birds that stood in front of the ice cream stand. Flake? And the little birds would hop up onto the fence.

The zoo here reminds me of that day and so I love going there when the sun seems too crystal and the children are happy. They must be happy to balance out my loneliness and sweet sadness during that day. Sometimes your own personal struggle makes you feel so pure, so wonderful. Harry used to share it with me, this memory, but something in me thinks that he has forgotten that day. If he returns from the hospital early enough tonight, I will ask him about it.

I've been trying to remember days like those all week. I don't know why, but it has become an obsession with me to clip little pieces out of my life in order to organize them. One day, maybe, I'll make another life out of them. The only problem is, I have six little lives running around by me anyway, and isn't it their lives I should be focusing on? And what about my own, real life?

I think I might have to stop these visits to Edward's. Some nights, he's much too philosophical for me, when what I really need is my husband's simplicity. I know you're scared. So am I. Write about it when you get home.