As the nurse propped her auburn locks under another pillow Zoe watched the door over her rotund belly as one watches the ocean over the dunes. Life moved within her, a son to be were the words and still she could not believe it, for it had never occurred to her until she met Von, until she saw the eyes of the eyes she knew, that her child was not to be a child, but a grandchild.The door, upon which, upon the other side, faint as her heartbeat, were words uttered, the kind of words one didn't need to hear to know. Von was there and another and where one spoke the other listened and the muted tones felt as lazy waves lapping, melodic, soothing, gentle in the way one is gentle when there is nothing to be done, nothing that can be done. She watched the door with the peace of decision made, of gift purchased and wrapped, of anticipation, as Ceru would often say in the quiet of exhaustion, of giving, within the effortless natural flow. She would give as he had given and she would give what no other could, and she would give not to get but as the natural unfolding of right and true, of love.
He would argue and she would smile. And in her eyes he would know the word could not stand against the true heart and then there would be silence and just looking and then tears and holding hands she would begin to talk, to tell the tale he had not heard, to pass the history of the baby's father, the history he would need to know, would want to know. So she watched the door. Knew that it would open. Knew that he would walk in heavy. Knew that he would leave light, in light.
He kicked, the grandson. She smiled as her hand traced the curve. And then the door opened.
15 comments:
I love you for the soul that writes words like these. The grandson. Beautiful and very moving as only the heights of duality can be. And the image is absolute. Gosh.
Well, hang on to your hat, cause I got plenty more from where those came from. :-D
A little backstory: this image is the sister image of the one I used for Ceru's casket. ;-)
That is so beautiful, Tree... 'the word could not stand against the true heart' - I loved that :)
Thank you Annie. :-)
Tender and beautiful.
Extremely moving! Looking forward to the next installment.
I knew it without having seen it, if that makes sense, is so beautiful and perfect for chapter. You know, I've found a space for more when I run out of wall, custom-made panel curtains. :-D I wish that you could go on a tour with me within the dream, but since that isn't possible, when it becomes a reality, you'll have to promise to come over for coffee. :-)
You have sentences within these passages that are supreme examples of how broad and vast, how comprehensive, far-reaching, booming your words can be and most often are, it makes me think of the passage that you speak of at times in Pirsig's book and it's easy application within your work. There is a potential pause, a journey to take (distance subject only to time allowed, infinity quite possible) at the end of pieces. Life moved within her quite literally could unite every thought on life, with the words a hundred, more, undefined as yet thoughts(/emotions) instantly awakened, in context with the rest of the chapter more so, an unstoppable flood. Clearing all hindrances.
Look. Paragraphs. ;-D
until she saw the eyes of the eyes she knew
So large I know not where to start, as imagination consumes every reach and avenues are travelled to the short distance that this will allow, to stand at that edge, squinting to see beyond, not knowing exactly what lies there, but knowing enough to comprehend the great measures of both sadness and joy, the joy of love unfaded, fused like strands of DNA so to speak. It is a mountain of a sentence, the kind for which one is remembered always, impacting, embedding, and joining. Within you hold up and show us, remind us, preserve timelessly black on white the depth and capacity of nature, sensitive soul painting the beauty with such clarity response is as unhindered.
The passage about the muted, gentle words I love for their proficiency perhaps best of all, in afterthought, upon analysis, which is to say reading was to swim, looking thereafter at the 'current' there is such amazement, such regard and respect and admiration for the skill and talent of expression. And thankfulness for the peace within Zoe. And for the conversation that is coming, whether we hear it or not, we know will, and the confirmation soothes where time has been cruel - and as I write that I want to erase it again - both then and now, erase for time has only be measurable in the most stagnant of ways, and not in all that has been said and given and received and remembered, learned and shared. Soothes however for since the two found each other, Von and Zoe and within, between them, Ceru, words heard have been relatively few, but between the portrait and Zoe here, it is complete and it is enough. Von's words as he and Kyra entered the pod, that regardless, he would see his son again, this, this is what continues here, so deep within the core of the love felt, sadness seems not to belong, or perhaps more accurately it becomes a truth of lesser significance.
Am in awe, and so thankful for the opportunity to partake by reading, of your creation.
Thanks Deb. Beautiful image you posted today.
Thanks Jenni. I'm looking forward to what happens next too. :-)
Sunshine, I wish I knew where these chapters came from. This chapter, like so many others, happened in the moment, which is to say I started with the idea of the nurse propping her head up and Von on the other side of the door and then, like laying brick, the sentences started creating themselves.
I'm not sure how to explain this, but a chapter like this one, as the writing starts, takes on a life of its own. With the right opening sentence, a rhythm develops, an almost musical quality to the words and sentences conducted by the central idea and the whole is educated with an emotional timbre that is hard to explain. At times I feel the character is channeling their story through time through me and my fingers work at their command, not mine. As you might imagine, the whole process blows me away. At times I feel seduced by the story, unable to resist the charms and my soul is striped bare before ink and idea. How else to say it? :-D
All the more for that description of it. :-) Sounds as an amazing experience as I always imagine it to be. You are very fortunate to have this, and blessed we are that you choose to share it with us. Happy Sunday, x
ah! that is a good feeling. I know! :)
But I never ever thought That I was giving a grandson, or for that matter a son. I always thought I was being a apart of creating!
Mona, you are one of the most creative people I know, uniquely, beautifully, you. If I had a bucket list, flying to India and having a cup of tea with you would be on it.
Oh I LOVE the way you ended this. Her knowing it would open and open it did.
A grandson.
Kinda partial to grandsons myself. ;-)
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