Day: December 16, 2007

and now for something completely normal (zappa will make up for my lack of interesting)

Contractions were still irregular when I left for work downtown. Now, hours later, I’m still waiting for news. Perhaps Xander’s been born already, perhaps they haven’t even left for the hospital. I suppose I will find out soon, but until then, I’m alright simply enjoying the solitude of my work. As a great bonus, there’s a veritable heap of delicious, untouched food left over from a ritzy party that didn’t (apparently) feel like eating, so now my desk is kindly piled with nibbles of fruit, vegetables, and expensive cheese. (There’s even cheesecake dip, a strange and glorious concotion I may become addicted to, though I didn’t know existed before today.)

News on the home front is the same sort of promising, as Marika’s things continue to dominate the living room a good two weeks after they were meant to be out, but new arrangements are beginning to come together around them anyway. Karen, for example, has painted her room an enchanting light shade of green. It’s like perpetual spring in there now. (I think she made an excellent choice.) Soon I’ll have to follow suit(e), continue reshaping my own space. The cats are adjusting well to her. She’s nice to them, and though they’re not quite conquering her lap whenever she sits down, they’ve begun keeping her company when she’s at her computer and following in front of her when she moves around.

Now if they would only stop falling asleep on my books.

We’re planning on having a movie night soon, showing the new Sigur Ros film, Heima, once everything’s settled. What nights are best for you?

Alex and I prepared by charging our camera batteries. I appreciate glory that can be so mundane.

My mother, bless her heart, found too much worry in the idea of me being on the bus alone at, (gasp), one in the morning, so she hauled herself out and drove me to Alex and Chrissy’s new house on the North Shore, the one they rented especially to raise their child in. Wood floors, a basement, a back-yard with a deck. Perfect space in which to grow. I’m here now, though she’s left, (it was the first time she’s seen Alex since he was six years old), typing from their couch while they try to get some rest upstairs. As I have a habit of making people laugh, I decided that I should sleep downstairs, where I won’t be distracting. Still, though, even from here in the livingroom, I can hear Chrissy singing through her contractions.

It’s really quite pretty.

I feel I have a better perspective on my parents just from being here. Maybe most parents, really, like this is a rite of passage. It feels so adult, waiting for the birth of a best friend’s child, as if a line has been crossed. There’s just something about it I can’t yet explain. Maybe later, after the waiting is over and we’ve seen the child as more than a strange photograph, black, white, and gray. We’re all so happy, run through with wonderful anticipation, that this feels as unreal as it feels important. (I couldn’t help touching her belly and asking Xander, the creature inside, when he’s going to come out.) It feels like an occasion in a way that none of the holidays ever do, like finally, something real. I’m glad to be here, like this, writing everything down.

(I wonder if he will read this when he’s older.)

Hi Xander, good morning. Welcome to the world.
Already we love you and you’re not even here.