faulty vision
From the monthly archives: November 2008
I would not make a good diagnostician, in part because I have difficulty seeing the forest for the trees. I would make an unconvincing hypochondriac for this very reason, since I can’t connect the dots: I cannot go from red spot to pustule to MRSA to imminent death. 1 + 1 does not equal 3 [...]
This journal is becoming All Hobbes, All the Time, for which I apologize — and yet, I can’t seem to help but wallow in the fact of my son. Let me say it in capital letters: My Son, who is still a miracle that I haven’t quite grasped in its entirety. He isn’t mobile yet, [...]
I think it’s inevitable that we talk about our Dark Times when we get together. It is our common ground, the shared experience that holds us together, a romp through Gehenna that has miraculously found us mostly sane on the other side. The bitterness of our conversation has receded over the last year and a half and has taken on a tint of half-marveling nostalgia, a kind of “can you believe–?” that pities our younger selves’ stupidity.
“Goddammit,” he seems to be saying (because he is my child and is fond of vigorous word choices). “How hard can this be?” And I change perfectly clean diapers, attempt to shove my breasts into his wide-open mouth, or bend him over and whack desperately at his back in an attempt to make him burp up gas that he might or might not be reserving for the middle of the night, when exhausted parents will be woken by the sound of flatulence that could blow down the walls of Jericho.
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