I wrote a post a while back listing all I'd made this summer and then lost it. Today, a darkish gloomy November in Brooklyn, with my belly huge and heavy with the new one due in a couple of weeks, E. napping and D. busy with a friend, I'll try to catch up again. This weekend we stayed home in bklyn and ended up with a long list of things crossed off, feeling a little closer to "ready," whatever that elusive state is. But I do feel it getting closer. I think more and more about birth and opening and not fearing. Fear seems to be retreating a little every day and to be replaced by a readiness to give her up and receive her all at the same time. But before I go on, the summer list needs to be expelled. It's on the list, there's nothing I can do. There is an order to things urging me along this way. So I follow.
There was, at last, at the end, the February Baby Sweater.
There was a corn soup, which tasted sublime, and a rustic peach tart. There was also strawberry jam and, later, raspberry.
Pillows were sewn
There was fresh bread and a lovely little beet.
Okay, now that's off the list. Now I can move nearer to the ever-coming present in my entries. It's as if everything is both coming to an end and a new beginning and an always unfolding present all at the same time. This will be the last summer before the new little being joins us and we are a family of five.