Thursday, June 11, 2009

his birth:
…and then my world was complete. I realized that all of the other things I had wanted in my life, that were my life, were merely that—things. I promised myself that from this precise second on, my mind will no longer be consumed by thoughts of the things I do not have that a friend or neighbor does. I will look upon your charming face and recognize that, as long as I have you, even if I have nothing, I have everything.

and death:
I both hear and feel it when you take a breath-shallow and quick. Your cough is only a sound, your body to weak to move a bit. I remember reading that when babies are born too early the benefit of having the mother hold their child skin to skin encourages the health of the baby and decreases the mortality rate. It’s called "Kangaroo Care". You and I used to sleep in the recommended position: tummy to tummy, head in between the breasts. The baby's head is turned so that the ear is above the parent's heart. You are no longer able to be in that position comfortably, so instead I place my arm under your shirt, your stomach warm on my skin. I try to believe that, as a wanna be wallaby, my skin against yours will grant me a few more days, hours, minutes with you, because I don’t know what I will do if it doesn’t….

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Some days there won't be a song in your heart. Sing anyway. ~Emory Austin