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2002-04-27 | 11:16 p.m.

It all started here. Reading this fine personal account of what it's like to breast feed brought me way back. I felt the weight of my baby in my arms, the hair on the back of her head damp and sticking to my bare forearm. I saw her cheek puff in and out as she nursed. That line of her face, the fullness of her adorable little cheek was one of the sweetest, most meaningful things I have ever witnessed.

When I die, I am going to do everything in my power to pull that memory back to my head and heart, hold it as the last thing I ever experience before falling asleep in death.

This afternoon, walking about the grocery, leaning forward slightly on the handlebar of the cart, I thought about that passage again. Perhaps because there are always so many couples, or complete families wandering around the grocery in the early evening, my mind wandered toward family life.

Soon enough the pulses of warmth in my heart turned to glass shards, and shot venom down from my sternum along my arms into my wrists (as usual. this isn't the first time it's happened), and the memory was overshadowed by something huge. A realization.

If I could have this pleasant, no......sublime encounter, over and over again with my child(ren) during feeding..... If I could love them with everything, with my breath and the salt in my sweat.... for years, even decades after they became too old for mother's milk, then what kind of intimacy exists between 2 adults? How much bigger and deeper, and more influential can a mature relationship be?

By the time I reached the canned vegetable isle, I decided I really don't want to find out. For crissakes, I can't remember where the heck I parked the car in the parking lot nowadays, nevermind sweat a man.

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Miss These?

absence of life - 2003-07-28
death cake - 2003-07-08
I won't let this age me. - 2003-07-06
Goodbye Jeffrey - 2003-06-19
Thanks but no thanks. - 2003-06-11

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