Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Open mouth--- i'm more flexible than i thought---insert foot:
I noticed the man with the shaved head come in to the restaurant while we were waiting for our table. He was tall and bald, an earing in his left ear. He looked familiar, but why? I looked again. Several times. He passed me and the woman with him looked familiar, as well. I couldn't think of any connection, just a vague familiarity. I looked again, at her, more closely, turned away and thought hard. When I looked at her again and then at him, I knew. They were pregnant when I'd seen them last, at my daughter's birth-prep classes. I nearly fell over myself trying to get to them. I tapped her on the shoulder and asked if they had just had a baby. Before I could explain why I was asking, she said in matter-of-fact tone, "Yes, she's with Jesus now." I half expected the sentence to be "she's with my mom and we are out for Valentine's Day." Jesus--I stared blankly.
She resecued me from my trance-like state saying, "She was born in July, and the cord was around her neck. She died." Somebody get this load of bricks off my chest! I wanted to shout. My heart wrenched in sorrow with them. They looked, not so sad, still factual. An event like that takes practice to get over. The time for public lament had passed. They were trying again, they said. My mouth opened and not much of any use came out. Sorry. I remember you from the class. Did you have chance to name her? Mary. Yes, she's with Jesus and Mary, now. They agreed.
They asked about my daughter and grandson. What to say? They are great, but she just wishes he slept more. In light of not having a baby to rock to sleep, that seems shallow and unimportant.
Somebody remind NOT to run up to people that look familiar. I think I'll keep my foot in my shoe and on the floor.
I noticed the man with the shaved head come in to the restaurant while we were waiting for our table. He was tall and bald, an earing in his left ear. He looked familiar, but why? I looked again. Several times. He passed me and the woman with him looked familiar, as well. I couldn't think of any connection, just a vague familiarity. I looked again, at her, more closely, turned away and thought hard. When I looked at her again and then at him, I knew. They were pregnant when I'd seen them last, at my daughter's birth-prep classes. I nearly fell over myself trying to get to them. I tapped her on the shoulder and asked if they had just had a baby. Before I could explain why I was asking, she said in matter-of-fact tone, "Yes, she's with Jesus now." I half expected the sentence to be "she's with my mom and we are out for Valentine's Day." Jesus--I stared blankly.
She resecued me from my trance-like state saying, "She was born in July, and the cord was around her neck. She died." Somebody get this load of bricks off my chest! I wanted to shout. My heart wrenched in sorrow with them. They looked, not so sad, still factual. An event like that takes practice to get over. The time for public lament had passed. They were trying again, they said. My mouth opened and not much of any use came out. Sorry. I remember you from the class. Did you have chance to name her? Mary. Yes, she's with Jesus and Mary, now. They agreed.
They asked about my daughter and grandson. What to say? They are great, but she just wishes he slept more. In light of not having a baby to rock to sleep, that seems shallow and unimportant.
Somebody remind NOT to run up to people that look familiar. I think I'll keep my foot in my shoe and on the floor.
