so, another person from church is pregnant. a surprise. the usual we weren't trying lingo. when i heard the news, it took just about all i had to not say, "well, of course you are." i refrained but my bitterness this week has taken even me by surprise.

...

so, i feel like a lot of people are all of a sudden pregnant who have tried for a really long time to be pregnant. this, along with my normal hormonal self, has brought the sadness to the surface again. whenever i start to feel unsettled or just off in some way, i feel like this is the first place that i go. it's like so much feels attached to this ache, this emptiness, this wonder of what will happen. will we ever be? will it ever be okay if not? will it make it go away if so? i don't know how to talk about it. don't know how to even really think about it. even tonight, i have found that my first response is to fill my thoughts and time with photography. forums, blogs, anything that will be distracting enough. as usual, even my own thoughts are cluttery, contradictory, rationalizing.

the week the wisteria blooms

that's what this is.

and also, maybe the name of the book i will write someday.

if a blog with only a few posts can have a trend, apparently mine would be the trend of quoting what other people have said. i am sort of wordless, as though i'm incapable of any original thought. i feel like the world of blogging has contributed to this. as though i have become increasingly aware that my thoughts are not my own, that other people really do feel what i feel and think my same thoughts. it feels like a violation in some way.

content

i needed to write this down because i know that i will forget it otherwise and it will fade into a million other moments such as this. moments that were treasured at the time but yet didn't make it into that place where memories stay.

i am working in my bedroom going through about 4000 wedding pictures. i don't mind. the reason is that from my window i can see my sweet husband working his heart out in the backyard. even better is that i can hear him singing as he works. attie is bounding joyfully through the yard behind him. it is 6:35 and still light outside. spring appears to have arrived.

for all of these things, i am thankful.

someday

someday i will paint this. or write it or something. i mean, re-write it. because i didn't but wish that i could have. for the second day in a row.

When we are old one night
and the moon arcs over the house
like an antique china saucer
and the teacup sun follows
somewhere far behind

I hope the stars deepen to a shine
so bright you could read by it

if you liked

and the sadnesses we will have known
go away for awhile
-- in this hour or two before sleep--
and that we kiss standing in the kitchen

not fighting gravity so much
as embodying its sweet force,
and I hope we kiss like we do today
knowing so much good is said in this primitive tonguef

rom the wild first surprising ones
to the lower dizzy ten thousand infinitely slower ones --
and I hope while we stand there in the kitchen
making tea and kissing,
the whistleof the teapot wakes the neighbors.

Prayer for a Marriage
Steve Scafidi