Mornings edges are always blurred and you grab onto fleeting moments in which they are both half in the clutches of slumber, tender bodies soft and warm. An instance of calm that steels you for the mundane gauntlet of this new existence. Milk toast sandwiches yogurt nappies odd socks no shoes tutu gum boots drop off pick up hair tie jacket tantrum teddy. The reach of responsibility is still a shock, every day. Nothing gets done if you don’t do it. Everybody needs you. Everybody wants you. Your entire being pulses with purpose and resentment all at once. You drive laps of the same roads the radio working hard to drown out their constant demands. Remember when you used to ride in the passenger seat of his unsafe car with no pants & your feet on the dash, sun bleached hair wild in the wind? But not today. Today belongs to them. Today tumbles into weeks and months you haven’t caught time you never will. Come Friday they have pulled you apart but by Monday he has rebuilt you.
Our first embrace – at 7pm – feels a lot like propping each other up. An abandonment called memory lane, I slip into an ancient version myself in your arms. Dusk falls quiet & heavy with déjà vu, before them we were only each other’s. I’m not proud of it but the thought flashes nonetheless. I quickly shed the daytime armour and become greedy and reckless for time and food and you and space and wine. How breathtakingly beautiful to be voracious, selfish, equal. Your company starts out like rehydration ends up as intoxication. Each hour darker brings a fleeting rediscovery of our self and a tug of war with fatigue. Everything is better at night. And everything is worse at night. A laugh comes easier, lingers longer. A babies cry cuts through the house violently, pulls achingly at my heart & jolts me back into my role.
They place her on your chest and you are born. All the capability you once struggled to conjure now cannot contain itself in response to this little girl. She is so you are. The world looks better smells better tastes better feels better. A second daughter comes and you have everything. You are happy tired emotional fulfilled drained so fucking alive. Loving them comes fast and easy but there is no preparation for what it is to be so loved. In the beginning it leaves you aching, unworthy. But self acceptance comes in a quiet afterbirth & iniquity is distributed more sparingly everyday until suddenly you wake up whole. Your scar winks at you in the mirror, a crooked grin below your abdomen privy to all your strength & weakness so you smile back. You fall in love with the shitty town you grew up in, walk the streets of your youth like a ghost resurrected by everything you were once certain killed you. Learning to trust this humility is the making of you. Two feet firmly on the ground, one foot in front of the other. They hold your hands, you hold their hearts.
Nothing diminishes. Perhaps that is the greatest surprise, the private thrill of monogamy. All this time, all this life, all this love swells to make us better. Longing still rushes in the right direction & sometimes threatens to spill over, but we thrive in it’s wild tide. With our quiet gestures no one would know how hungry we are but a shared space still buzzes with our magnetism, albeit tamed in lieu of the most beautiful little obstacles.
And suddenly we learn to live with this bridled lust, to crave it even so when we are finally alone the heart rushes in an uncontrolled torrent.