such a sadness and thrill all together, all in pieces
My daughter floats through the skies as I write this, to the adoptive mother who raised her, to her younger sister and brother I might never meet, to a place cold and slick with ice. All alien to me, all mysteriously fragmented and unknown. And I keep breathing slow, because I have a nine-year-old boy with a million blistered pox covering every inch of skin, and two other children relieved the cousins and aunts and uncles and surprise sister have left. I just keep breathing slow, like I did in labor, the only way I know how to keep the sharp pain and sadness at bay.
It might take me a while to digest this time, to tell you about it.
And oh yeah, the cracker server meets its new owner sometime today, so think about bidding if you bought too many holiday treats and need a lovely (cough) serving tray and a pile of Avon stuff for your New Year's party!
Well, damn, I was going to sign off, say goodbye for a day while I rest, collect my thoughts, but I have to say, I have to say it, say that my daughter looks like me, acts like me, dresses like a colorblind bohemian the way I dress, hugs 7 and 9 like me, eats food the way I do, thinks secret thoughts with her eyes slanted and lips curled just like me. Just like me. I don't understand genetics or environment, don't know which pays what bills, only know something spiritual connected us these years, made us somehow more alike than different.
2:09:36 PM 
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