June 6, 2006. 6-6-06. Meh. No superstition here. Just observations.
My body, mind, heart, go through changes with the seasons. Sometimes I wonder if it is because I love plants so much, that I mimic them. Or perhaps because I sometimes feel as though I am part feline, I get into feline moods. The point is that I am currently in my summer phase. Which means that I sleep less, become a bit more active, yet love to rest in a sunbeam. I also feel restless. I feel nomadic-ish. I become somewhat moodier. More volatile.
So, with the appointment for my individual counseling quickly approaching, I find myself on pins and needles. I enjoy self analysis. To a certain degree. What I don't enjoy is someone else analyzing me, especially when I know that I probably won't like what they have to say. I'm a mistress of denial. So I'm gonna ponder about summer evenings instead of thinking about how I deal with my emotions.
Do you call them fireflies or lightning bugs? Aaron and I have this discussion every summer. I call them fireflies. As I sit here on the couch, the room dark around me except for the light of the TV and my computer, I can see the occasional blink of fireflies in my backyard. The windows are open, so I can hear the symphony of the crickets. Have you ever listened to them? For some people, the sound of crickets chirping is an annoyance. Not for me. It's music. It always brings me back to hot summer nights at my grandparents, sleeping with the window open, praying for a cool breeze to blow across me, to a time when summer was magical.
Summer in the city (or suburbs) is an interesting time. I don't know that I can call it magical, not as it was for me growing up in the mountains, where the glow of Atlanta was far enough in the distance for the light of the stars to dominate the sky. Here, I see the glow of the mall lights from my living room. I hear the faint, oh so faint, sound of the highway. Magical is not a word I would use to describe. But interesting, yes. Children play in our neighborhood. They play late into evening. It is the first night of summer here, the first night that school is out. So I've heard children all evening. The shrieks, the laughter, the crying, the frantic race of the words "123 NOT IT," they are a part of the summer song in the suburbs. It is interesting. I'm not sure how I feel about this summer song right now.
It is June. I should have been having a baby this month. I should have been as big as a house. Instead, I am as small as I was before I had Ethan. I've lost about 20 lbs in 5 months. My arms are full of a three year old who doesn't like to cuddle as much as he once did. My heart aches one minute and swells with joy the next.
We have a picture collage hanging at the bottom of our stairs. One of the pictures is of me, Ethan, and my grandpa. I found myself staring at it for a long time today. Searching for my grandpa in me. In Ethan. Thinking about the way that families intertwine, mingle, wind, twist, become one and inseparable. Because that's how it is with families. Whether it is a "natural" family, or a family made up of love and other bonds. We become a part of each other. To a degree, inseparable. It's good.
I wonder if Henry would have been our "terrible" child. The one who takes after me :) instead of Aaron. We were talking about that last night. Ethan is a good good good kid. Takes after Aaron a LOT. I was demon spawn as a child. Would Henry have been "my" child? Is it "safe" to have another baby? :) Or will we still be risking the Mother's Curse--"I hope you have a kid just like you!" Musings. I dunno.
I want to express so much. Yet nothing even comes close to touching what I want to touch. I yearn for more. I crave something else that I can't identify. Or perhaps I can identify it and am afraid that it is out of reach. I need to express/emote/create/--- something! And nothing comes close to what I need. Yet I'm not melancholy. Merely restless.
It is summer. And Tomorrow's another day. And I'm thirsty anyway. So bring on the rain.
I bid you good night.