So there we were at the end of a journey and the beginning of a lifetime. These past nine months have been the longest, shortest, most confounding emotional roller coaster since... well, probably since the first time round...
We have been on a journey for 13 summers. Just the two of us travelling to infinity and beyond, adventure after adventure, hiding out in makeshift dens, hopping on island cushions, gladiators on sheepskin carpets, scaling furniture, bouncing on beds, sofa snuggling, conquering long rainy days.
I don't get it. What is it with women? As a gender we seem to be our own nemesis. The rubbish we tell/sell ourselves is far more detrimental to the modern female psyche than the shit men mete out.
They say a picture paints a thousand words....
"What does one do when contractions begin?" My arm shot up. I knew this one. "Scream," I answered. This response was met with disdain: "Wrong... You need to be in control. Screaming evokes the idea of someone who has lost control." I suddenly came over all John McEnroe. Was she serious? She could not be serious? How could she possibly say that?
This week the bump took command of the mothership. All things ego related receded into the background as I prepared for metamorphosis, from woman to 'mother' or 24 hour service station. Branded with a thick black line, a primal print of 'Keep Off' ran the length of my curvature.
In a grey stone church in Dublin, I watched myself from a time since past; as a seven year old, Jewish girl wanting to belong. The place was full of people, though none were praying and nothing was quite what it seemed to be.
I reckoned if reflux was the worst of my symptoms, I was doing good. Okay, so I would prefer it if my arse didn't completely sag and my ankles didn't swell to the size of my thighs and....
It happens - someone contacts you from a time way back - when half your present size, you shook your tail feather and tickled your fancy.
I have always enjoyed a solitary state without distractions, so I can 'away with the fairies' or lose myself in the lull of a soft breeze, carrying smatterings of conversations, bird song, the distant flow of traffic, barks, bells, road works and that which is named silence in a city such as this.