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sweetbriarpoet
Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.
 
Twenty-Sixth Entry
Tags: family friends love night supper life
Bells ringing over a clear, white pool of silken liquid.
A small ant struggles to regain its balance on top of the water.
A scoop from a small hand lets milky white trickle through its fingers,
and the tiny bug is saved in a sweet, cautious rescue.

I just wanted to say thank you to my friend eyesthebye who is always too kind to me and gives me too much credit. Thank you for your friendship and loyalty. Also thank you to everyone who reads this blog because I do like it when you make comments. (Especially needed this week, since it's basically my only form of communication with the outside world!)

Anyway, I've been about to explode all day. Not only did I not get to see my husband (which just sets me on edge, we've never been apart for so long since before the babies were born) and also, the weather outside has been absolutely rotten. Oliver cried when I tried to leave for class today. I've never seen him in such a state. The sitter says he never cries. I suppose the poor thing just feels neglected without his father here most of the time. It broke my heart to have to leave just for a lecture.

 I told "Edward" about it after class. I miss them terribly when they're not around, I explained, as I leaned in my chair. He was sitting on his desk, professor-style, with one leg hanging over the side. His arms were crossed and there was a permanent half-smile on his face. He looked down at me and raised  my gaze up to his. But when I get home, they're all looking expectantly at me, as if I had something for them, I continued, and I feel inadequate. He stood up and crossed the room to where there was a blackboard. He picked up a piece of chalk and fiddled with it. I could never have children of my own, he said, drawing a cartoon on the board, because I wouldn't be able to stand the guilt when I've found out I fucked them up. I sighed. Yes, I'm waiting for that, I answered. "Edward" put down the chalk and came over to me, putting his hands into mine and lifting them until I stood up. He embraced me. If, he said, your children grow up to be strange, it will be none of your fault. If my mother had been like you are to those kids, I would not be single, famililess, with an unforgiving career and no money. We both laughed. Thank you, I said, and kissed him.

When I got home, it wasn't so bad. I gave some of the children baths together, and we took Harry's shaving cream and drew pictures on the shower walls with it. Then we pretended they were aliens and made their wet hair big with bubbles. Then we played talent show and made a stage with the couch pillows. The kids would take turns dressing up in a big box of clothes we have in the library and putting on their own acts. I held Virginia the whole time and clapped as the kids sang, showed me their favorite books, and drew pictures. Most of them had on their stylish aviator, plastic sunglasses that they adore so much. Rev brought Trinity over and we all ate lunches of peanut butter sandwiches, milk, celery, and ramin noodles. Now I am sitting in my bed alone, writing and reading, taking the actue silence that comes from being a mother alone. I even thought about waking up one of the children and having them come sleep with me. A sense of lonliness has come creeping on, and I feel as if no one could fill the space that is empty beside my bed.

I wanted to invite "Edward" over just so I would have some masculine compnay, but Rev openly expressed that he did not like the relationship I had with my professor. He's not just some toff from the school, he said. Both of you could get into serious troube. Not to mention the fact that you have plenty of family and love right here. I know he's right, but there's something missing in my life that "Edward" can give me. He can give me a sense of wordliness that none of my family can. He helps me remember that there is a world and world issues out there. Sometimes, I catch myself looking into Harry's eyes and thinking, What would happen if we all the sudden decided we couldn't do this anymore? What would happen if he left me for another woman, or he decided he didn't want what I had to offer? In my fantasy world, nothing can touch us; touch our marriage. But in reality, there are so many things that could break us. Break me, I suspect. Harry's solidarity is something I have explored the depths of--in this exploring I've discovered I'm on very firm ground. He is unshakable.

I'll make one more round through my children's rooms and pat them on their innocent heads. I'll kiss each of them on the hair, take in their wonderfully light scent. If I'm still lonely, I'll sleep in the library among my oldest friends in the world: my books.

Pollock on white and black stripes becoming
an essence of purely aethetic brilliance.
A chill running down the spine of a multitude of creativity.
Sweat dripping off a canvas onto the hard, concrete floor.
The studio of innocent dreaming.


5 Fates - Get Fortune Told
 
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