Friday, September 16, 2005

here be dragons

This night, eleven years ago, C and I first stood on the edge of a century old wading pool cut into the rocks at Newcastle Beach.

The moon shimmered in the water around us and somewhere at our feet, buried under the sand, was rumoured to be a mosaic map of the world.

If someone had tapped me on the shoulder and said: in eleven years time the man sticking his tongue in your mouth now will also be sticking a needle in the fatty tissue round your bellybutton, I would have laughed and laughed because it seemed so perfect a moment I scarcely dared hope it could last beyond that one night. And then of course I would have screamed like a girl.

There may be nothing more.

No small version of ourselves, no combination of blue eyes and dark hair, anglo and asian, blind optimism and fearful reluctance, hot lust and cold wet tears. A family of two.

But what we hold between us, if not our dream children, are countless shining moments.
Like tiny fish slipping through the tide, bright as the full moon on water or the thrill of a first kiss or the thin flash of steel as it enters my skin.

In the map of our lives there is the unknown and the unknowable. Here be fear and heartache and all the grey islands of grief.


But here? And here? And all of this here?



Here be love.





map pic

21 comments:

K said...

What a beautiful post.

amanda said...

Wow. You brought tears to my eyes with that one. So beautiful. So true.

MsPrufrock said...

Jesus...will you stop fucking making me cry? That's two posts in a row.

I might remember this post in all the times I forget those things to be true. Thank you.

Lin said...

OG, sweetie...this will be a most beautiful book. Your words are truly magical and manage to convey, so succinctly, all that is sweet and tough in this world.

cat said...

"But what we hold between us, if not our dream children, are countless shining moments."

So true thanks for reminding us.

Calliope said...

Oh Man...You need to get klenex to sponsor you. Such a sweet, sweet post. Lovely.

Chee Chee said...

And thanks for reminding us to always be thankful for what we do have.

Great post.

Spanglish said...

thank you for the tender post.

L.E. said...

thank you ... that was beautiful (with a nice visual of him giving you the injections). It's good to be reminded of what's good in our lives ... thanks for making me remember, too.

St Joan of Arts said...

Dear Fellow,
That's two in a row for me too - tears of joy, sadness, hope and of great love for you both.

elle said...

Wow, that was beautiful. I wish you lots more places to label with love.

MC said...

That has made me teary , it was so beautiful.

CarolineM said...

Short, stark and evocative. Lovely.

Patry Francis said...

Not only beautiful, but deeply wise.

You are a wonderful writer, ova girl.

spindleshanks said...

It's a good'un og (og in danish means "and" by the by).

thalia said...

Damn you will you just stop writing all this lovey stuff and making me feel like a complete loser for my efforts?

And thank you for making me feel lucky.

Larisa said...

You are so eloquent and poignant. Lovely, lovely post.

fisher queen said...

I am sending this to my husband. This is what our weekend felt like- to be able to see love through this is amazing. To write about it the way you did- thank you.

Millie said...

Such a beautiful post. Thanks for writing this and helping us all remember what we have.

k #2 said...

You are obviously blessed with a love that will get you through anything.

I feel blessed to have found your blog, your beautiful writings, and your reminder to all of us to remember what we have right NOW.

Thank you.

Hummingbird said...

When you cant make babies and you have a really good man who just loves you, and you him..... what you notice more than the lack of babies, is the love. Thank you for the most beautiful words you shared to describe this. It reminds me that despite my empty nest, I too am blessed. :)