Moira dithered on the question of children. It wasn't that she didn't want children, more she didn't want to be a single mother and, well, the guys - she hesitated to use the term men for some of them - in her life weren't the reliable, fatherly types. She tried hard not to practice serial monogamy. She took breaks between relationships and took stock of what was right and what was wrong and vowed never to repeat her mistakes. Until the next time. She even flirted briefly with the idea of a relationship with another woman but was distracted by Jorge.
Jorge was different than prior guys. He came with an introduction through a colleague from work. He had both a college education and longer tenure at his job than she did. He was funny, he was smart, he was good looking. They'd reached the point in the relationship where they each had a drawer in the other's apartment.
And then he ghosted her. His phone appeared disconnected. His apartment was cleared out. The mutual friend was at a loss, Jake and Jorge had gone to school together, this wasn't typical.
At one month, Moira stopped blaming herself. "Who Does That?" she shouted at her ceiling. She began to consider perhaps a cat, or a dog. Maybe she was destined to be alone. She could embrace that, right? At two months she realized maybe she wasn't going to be alone but was too afraid to verify it. At three months, her OBGYN confirmed her suspicions. She had not wanted to be a single mom, but she would keep this baby. She would make it work. She accepts the prenatal vitamins and signs up for birthing classes.
He becomes aware. How does he know he's him? He just does. Awareness of himself as an entity. Awareness of separation from Everything. And a vessel. He is aware of a vessel. As awareness of the vessel becomes clear, so too does the need to fill the vessel. He enters and everything is dark. He instinctively reaches out for synapses, and merges with the vessel. Almost instantly, he can feel the knowledge of Everything fading. He feels blood circulating. He feels warm liquid on skin. He is aware of sounds - the blood and distant echoes. He tests the limits of his reach; he stretches and kicks his feet. It feels so good to have this vessel to move, he turns, like a fish swimming. He is still able to feel the flutters of Everything. but the vessel does have certain limitations. Time isn't a concept to him, there's floating, growing, moving, and being still. Then there is pressure. He's being squeezed uncomfortably so. His world is changing. He vaguely remembers from the Everything that this is the next step, this is the only way to get to experience a human life. And again squeezing - compacting him. How will he survive this. And then it's more, worse. And then
Intense light
absence of water
Cold
strange skin
Noise too much noise
He screams from the tips of his ten perfect toes he screams.
He is wrapped and warm. The doctor nestles him in his mother's arms.
"Moira, meet your baby girl."
— Lkai
Jorge was different than prior guys. He came with an introduction through a colleague from work. He had both a college education and longer tenure at his job than she did. He was funny, he was smart, he was good looking. They'd reached the point in the relationship where they each had a drawer in the other's apartment.
And then he ghosted her. His phone appeared disconnected. His apartment was cleared out. The mutual friend was at a loss, Jake and Jorge had gone to school together, this wasn't typical.
At one month, Moira stopped blaming herself. "Who Does That?" she shouted at her ceiling. She began to consider perhaps a cat, or a dog. Maybe she was destined to be alone. She could embrace that, right? At two months she realized maybe she wasn't going to be alone but was too afraid to verify it. At three months, her OBGYN confirmed her suspicions. She had not wanted to be a single mom, but she would keep this baby. She would make it work. She accepts the prenatal vitamins and signs up for birthing classes.
He becomes aware. How does he know he's him? He just does. Awareness of himself as an entity. Awareness of separation from Everything. And a vessel. He is aware of a vessel. As awareness of the vessel becomes clear, so too does the need to fill the vessel. He enters and everything is dark. He instinctively reaches out for synapses, and merges with the vessel. Almost instantly, he can feel the knowledge of Everything fading. He feels blood circulating. He feels warm liquid on skin. He is aware of sounds - the blood and distant echoes. He tests the limits of his reach; he stretches and kicks his feet. It feels so good to have this vessel to move, he turns, like a fish swimming. He is still able to feel the flutters of Everything. but the vessel does have certain limitations. Time isn't a concept to him, there's floating, growing, moving, and being still. Then there is pressure. He's being squeezed uncomfortably so. His world is changing. He vaguely remembers from the Everything that this is the next step, this is the only way to get to experience a human life. And again squeezing - compacting him. How will he survive this. And then it's more, worse. And then
Intense light
absence of water
Cold
strange skin
Noise too much noise
He screams from the tips of his ten perfect toes he screams.
He is wrapped and warm. The doctor nestles him in his mother's arms.
"Moira, meet your baby girl."
— Lkai
(NOTE: This is "Macoff" from the current 40Days session) WOW! I really like the in-the-womb descriptions. And the kicker at the end! I wonder, could that really be true? Out in the cosmos, where babies might come from, does gender really matter? Or does is it only a requirement for life on earth?
ReplyDeleteI second Macoff's sentiment about the in-the-womb descriptions and especially love the losing touch with the Everything in order to fill and move within a "vessel".
ReplyDelete