Off to Saskatchewan this week. The edge of the Canadian shield. To see the lines laid out where Jaimie and Al will build a house. To put my feet in cool lake water. To see what half a bison in a freezer looks like, finally.
On Saturday, Ash felt his first kick, strong as a buffalo butting its head into a gate. Thankfully, baby was not poisoned by all the sour milk we were drinking. An important lesson learned: switching brands does not mean milk should taste that funny. It’s like we don’t know what anything should taste like anymore…except for vegetables. Crisp and clear in my mind have returned all those carrots, cucumbers and peas picked from my parent’s concrete backyard in East Vancouver. Now more than ever, those childhood memories returning, as if the best parts of me are being chosen and stitched into this life inside.
Just over two weeks until our midway ultrasound. Are you a boy or a girl? I want to know but I love the mystery of you all at the same time.
Tiny bubbles bursting in slow motion against my muscles. A light percussion under my skin. There you are. And here I am. At 15 weeks, I finally have the urge to post again. An urge nearly as strong as the fatigue that pushed against my every step like a strong wind for weeks. I wake this morning to a clearer understanding of the lifespan of fruit, clinging with all its might to the fingertip of a tree, growing heavier every second with the fullness of its own perfection.
Then, a card in the mail from a perfect friend. She is right. The glowing comes slowly, but all that orange fire on the horizon has me sitting as still as a child in a boat. Morning moves into place, and suddenly I am somewhere near the afternoon of this pregnancy. I welcome myself back with words while I have them. So much of this perfection is unwritten amazement.
I hope and plan to get back to posting. I have missed this little place.