A Conversation with Myself

I live in a quiet little town with my husband. I have two sons, one who is married and has two children; the other is nineteen and recently moved to his dad’s house. I have a cousin, Marie, who is eighteen days older than me, and I love her dearly, and she is now living with my husband and me. Marie has a daughter, Cindy, who is twenty years old, and I love her dearly, and she is now living with me, my husband, and Marie. Cindy has a two year old son, Jordan, who is a darling and I love him dearly, and he is living here with Marie, Cindy, my husband and me.

It’s hard to believe that I am 51 years old. I say it out loud and a voice in my head cries out, “Don’t dwell on it! Let it go!" And then as if I am not having enough trouble (what with hearing voices), I find myself replying, “Wait a minute now! Don’t dwell? Let it go? Have you got any idea how different my life has become in just four short months? Have you even got a clue what it’s like to be expected to make so many changes in so little time?"

“Do you realize small voice in my head that this time right now is supposed to be my time - my time to write a book of short stories, and to travel with my husband, and see some of the world?"

“Do you not understand that I am too old for babies and diapers and teaching?"

“So don’t you tell me to let it go!"

And the voice replies to me in that soft, barely audible way it has, “I’m sorry. You’re right! Babies! You are too old! Babies are messy. They are too heavy to lift! The touch everything! They drool on freshly ironed dresses! They leave fingerprints on walls! They leave small puddles of liquid when allowed to be naked for only a short period of time! They get illnesses – runny noses, sneezes, fevers! They require so much care! No wonder you are so distraught! No wonder you want to run away! What good thing could possibly come out of helping to raise a baby when you are 51 years old?"

And suddenly I scream out, “STOP! Don’t say another word. What could possibly come out of helping to raise a baby when I am 51 years old?"

“Those trusting eyes lifted up to me, waiting in excited anticipation for me to blow another stream of bubbles."

“Those quiet moments, as he is sitting on my lap while I rock back and forth."

“What about all those kisses? Quick little “on the run” kisses, or silly giggling “mmmmmmm wowie” kisses!" (A mmmmmm wowie kiss is that kind of kiss that only a toddler seems to give. It’s that kind of kiss where the little guy looks into the eyes of the person he is kissing…and then just laughs and laughs as he is kissing this person that he adores.)

“And oh, those tiny little fingers, grabbing onto mine as we walk and explore!"

“And hey there, little voice in my head – what about all of those firsts? First words, and phrases, and short sentences, like: ‘I did potty!"

“And seeing the world through little baby eyes – the beauty of it all – the wonder of it all – the innocence of it all!"

“And those four little words, spoken by a mouth covered in chocolate - - ‘I love you, Ghee."

And the tiny voice in my head shuts up………for now!