I so rarely take the time anymore to just blog. I always regret it. I mean, the day passes and I sit back and think, Well, at least I wrote.
What a shitty attitude.
I spent most all of my day on this computer: writing, editing, designing, researching, and all other things writing related, and yet I so rarely take the time out from all of that to just simply write about my day.
So today, I’m not “writing” in the work sense of the word.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to…someone I love dearly keeps stealing my mouse.
And pushing my chair down the hallway.
And all manner of
annoying cute one year old behavior.
Amazingly enough, I think he left all his good behavior behind at the National Aquarium. We took the kids two weeks ago for their first ever trip to the aquarium. It was a blast and I got some amazing photos.
It never ceases to amaze me how much inspiration I can find in the beauty of marine animals and sea life and yet still…
be totally and completely terrified of big bodies of water.
I mean, these guys are fantastic and fabulous, but I have absolutely no interest in going anywhere near their natural environment.
Besides, the beach hates people who are as pale as me. It’s best I just stick to the aquarium.
And you can check out more of my awesome aquarium photos…or pictures of my family attempting their ninja picture avoiding skills, over here at my Instagram account. See you there!
I came out like someone had dusted my skin with turmeric,
the bow of my mouth carved into a rigid scream,
my eyes – two angry slits,
with the thick purple cord pulsating around my neck.
It was as if the Moirai started out my journey with
the filament stretched between their wrinkled fingers,
ready to cut me out like a malignant lymph node, but…
Cary and Kacey Jordan, Flickr Creative Commons
They laid me into his hands, where he stroked my cheek
with tobacco stained fingers.
I was less than an hour old,
barely enough in this world to be an aftertaste:
the slick slide of emotion down the throat that catches
like it suddenly turned to concrete at the tonsils
and the adhesion becomes so strong you can’t just swallow it down,
you have to cough it up,
admonish yourself for the sentimental hang-ups
that come with the territory of fatherhood.
And someone let that shining filament go,
loosened their grip,
and let me live.
© Laura A. Lord, 2015
I don’t know why this collection of words from MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie made me think back to my birth story, but they did. Perhaps baby thoughts are just on my mind. I’ve been working towards becoming a surrogate mother and so I’ve certainly been thinking about babies and births lately. Either way, a big thank you to MindLoveMisery for the wordle prompt that inspired me this morning.
It is 1 a.m.
and you are draped across my body –
the potency of your soap
spreading across my skin.
Sleep is pounding in my skull,
but mutual lust is dripping –
a slow leak
down to my leopard print high heels.
Your mouth is pressed against my breast
and I gasp,
head thrown to the side of the bed
and our tiny room is tossed into a prism’s light,
the luminary lighting his small face in the crib
making dark eyes beam hazel
and so I slide out from beneath you.
He is crying and I take him from his bed.
I wrap him in my arms and
sidle down into the bed with him.
He is groping at my breast,
and it is 1 am
and he is draped across my body –
the smell of lavender in his hair
it’s a complete 180
and I’m spinning from woman
from desire, to nurture
from you to him.
It is 1 a.m.
and I am the light
cut from the prism’s heart.
I am one and all,
wife and mother
in leopard high heels…
© Laura A. Lord 2015
There is something odd, and yet beautiful in being a mother. It seems we always have so many different coats to wear: wife, mother, daughter, friend…Sometimes those coats seem to overlap, we slide from one thing to the other with little thought.
This was written for MindLoveMisery’s prompt.