So, we (my wife and I) found out we are expecting a little bambino in March. I haven't said much about expecting a kid yet because I've been at a loss for words. So here goes nothing:
1) My wife is amazing. Brewing inside of her right now is a person, a person who will one day walk and talk, who will make friends and lose friends, who will have to make tough choices like whether or not to fall in love or stay home instead of walking the dogs. My wife is going through changes that would make me break down and cry. Daily. And yet, she smiles and laughs ...and is still ticklish. She's amazing.
2) I'm going to be a father, which I still can't wrap my head around. In 4 months, my child will be swaddled in my arms sleeping, pooping, eating, and then doing it all over again. I'm going to be pretending a spoon is an airplane. I'm going to be throwing a ball to expecting hands. I'm going to be giving the "birds and bees" conversation, yanking on the e…
Perhaps, this'll be reworked into something more permanent.
Personally, I think the shade from the Unknown is quite lovely.
The Unknown. I thought we had reached a point where all things in the universe, grand and magnificent as it is, had been identified, quantified, categorized, and classified. Then, seven years ago, this anomaly, this behemoth of a mystery, plots itself above the New Washington Monument and stews. We, myself included, had no word for it, so we called it The Unknown, the abyssal remains of the withering human condition.
These are the preconscious thoughts of someone currently in the wax museum railcar just before he wakes up. My eyes are heavy, as they should be, as I had predicted. Nitrous Oxide is a cruel mistress, clad in leather straps and chains, smoking an unfiltered Marlboro Red, waiting on you to cry and beg for forgiveness…
“Yipe!” I cry, the barrel of a gun pointed at my face. Behind me, the firmsoft breasts of a woman. I turn around, head…
Once that sun sets, the stars come out, and the Englishmen
get quiet. The wind makes the sails swell a gentle cascading rhythm with the
waves. During the night, I am well. I am free.
"Up, apes," the monstrosity of a man shouts from
the top of the stairs. I have not revealed that I speak and understand English.
English was mandatory in my home. "No, son," my
father would correct. "It is pronounced Free-dum. Write it out, f-r-e-e-d-o-m."
He would smile at me while his gentle hands guided my clumsy fingers. "We
will leave our home, Chichi," he would whisper. "We will leave, and -
make sure your 'o' closes at the top - and you will see the land of plenty.
There will be grain and milk, and you will be full."
The last light of dawn fell to the contours of his face and
made laurels of his greying temples. "I will be there with you, Chichi.
Now, pronounce it like Dr. Wellesly."
We would sit in the dark corner of our home, l…