i had this little baby,
and my past was all a blur;
i had my idea of what it was like,
being a girl.
being in the midst of a family of boys,
and parents who treated me like an only child.
i had this little baby
whose name i chose one night
in front of a fire lit in a hearth
in a beautiful inn,
historic and restored.
way more expensive than we could afford.
but the waiters treated me so kindly.
i was so young, and
so full up with that baby.
and maybe even they,
more than i,
knew that it was an odd confluence of events
that led someone like me,
at that age,
to be that pregnant
and dining in such luxury.
i think i just gave off the air of different.
i did not belong there.
but then that baby.
and i immediately, irrevocably, unarguably
belonged
everywhere.
everywhere that baby went, or would go,
i would be there.
she made me, that baby.
she made me
into me.
::
today, we leave the house to run an errand.
i say: where do you want to go?
she knows i mean: we can go anywhere you want.
so we go to the thrift.
together.
we walk around separately,
and when we find each other in the aisles again,
i have two wooden bowls and a record for tim,
for my valentine to him.
she has found a sweatshirt donated by one of our boys.
and we laugh so hard about this,
feeling something just right
about finding it
and recognizing it as his,
both of us.
then, at the counter i see there on the shelves
a set of japanese dolls that were mine,
when i was little.
if they are not exactly mine,
they are the exact ones i had,
with the set of small wigs that are used for different ceremonies.
the box is broken on the back,
and callie asks if i can remember if my set had a broken box.
i can't.
so we buy (back) these things.
and we don't talk all that much.
we're just together.
and i'm all of a sudden pretty sure that we will always be ok.
xo,
tt.
