![]() ![]() ![]() I hoped to retain a tiny corner of the old me, just enough to warn other women with. ![]() I tried to be conscious while it happened, like watching my own surgery. If you were wise enough to know that this life would consist mostly of letting go of things you wanted, then why not get good at the letting go, rather than the trying to have? These exotic revelations bubbled up involuntarily and I began to understand that the sleeplessness and vigilance and constant feedings were a form of brainwashing, a process by which my old self was being molded, slowly but with a steady force, into a new shape: a mother. I appreciated nuns now, not the conscripted kind, but modern women who chose it. What did it really matter if I spent it like this-caring for this boy-as opposed to some other way? I would always be earthbound he hadn’t robbed me of my ability to fly or to live forever. “But as the sun rose I crested the mountain of my self-pity and remembered I was always going to die at the end of this life anyway. ― Edgar Lee Masters, quote from Spoon River Anthology With a medley of horns, bassoons and piccolosĪnd the creak of a will-mill – only these?Īnd a broken laugh, and a thousand memories, Like the girls when dancing at Little Grove. The wind's in the corn you rub your handsįor beeves hereafter ready for the market Or a meadow to walk through to the river? ![]()
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