Friday, April 8, 2016

How We Do It, Part LVIII



The liminal is a transitional period and carries a sense of ambiguity and disorientation. I feel it most acutely during the dark hours before dawn. A threshold, an open door, that strip of wood that marks one room from another, and I am on the other side.  I hover there at the liminal. Sophie had about six small seizures that we call big this morning. They came as she slept, a jerk, a groan, a stiffening of her arms and then the rhythmic fold, unfold, fold, unfold. She thrashed this morning when the jerking stopped, out of beat, and then smiled, a grimace before she lay back, limp. Seven times. The threshold of sleep and wake, death and life. I hover there at the liminal. Disoriented, even as I thrust one foot over, receive a blow to my face from her errant arm. The space between us liminal, too, where she ends and I begin. Having crossed over, she ate raspberries and cinnamon toast for breakfast while I sipped coffee. I drove to something new the other day, an open road, release. I entered the highway on a short ramp, slowed to avoid something that lay across the road, a broom, yellow stick and chopped off bristles, dropped there I supposed, by a witch who was done with flight.

14 comments:

  1. That space - I have such a love/hate relationship with it. You describe it so well that it puts me right there - in that limbo that is womb-like and contained and also neither here nor there. The crossing over, never to go back whether you want to or not. Oh. Your writing is sublime and spare. I love it and hate the fact that the seizures are back for now.

    All my love.

    ReplyDelete
  2. That ending took my breath away. A witch done with flight. Let's hope.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I can't imagine ever being done with flight... imagining a crow that refuses to fly any longer, a witch parting with her broom and taking the bus-it's just jaw dropping and heart wrenching.

    Yes, yes keep writing. Like the crow and witch that must keep flying, you must retain your keyboard my dear and fly us away on your words!

    ReplyDelete
  4. The writing is beautiful. I am so sorry you are dealing with so many seizures again. Love to you and Soph.

    ReplyDelete
  5. A beautiful musing, essay. The last line is simply killer. You and your children are forever in my heart. xo

    ReplyDelete
  6. You string words together like gems on a thread.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I'm laying next to Robby wondering if these twitches in his sleep are seizures and if he's still alive when he gets strangely still. I don't want to know the answer so instead I just hope this quiet morning never ends so I'll never have to find out. I love listening to the birds chirp outside my window anyway

    ReplyDelete
  8. I just love you. So much. You blow me away, every day. Every. Single. Day.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Your writing puts me smack in the middle of your space. xo

    ReplyDelete
  10. beautiful writing, i love the unexpected ending.
    hope sophie is better.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Deeply moving post. Beautifully written.

    ReplyDelete

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...