Well all that nesting has kept me away from the keyboard. OR maybe it's just me keeping me away. Life has felt like one of those ill-designed water slides where there's a really steep fast corner that opens to an almost flat spot that requires scooching to reach the next steep spot. During the scooching part though, there's that panicky urge, "I'd better move quick or the person behind me is going to catch up and mow me over in this dead spot." However, in my situation, the slow scooching parts aren't long enough. Even with the panicky urge that I'd better get in gear and get all the things done before my next Ed Psych class looms... or before I'm too huge to dig that hole for the azalea... or before THE BABY COMES...
I want to linger in the slow times, taking walks with Brian smelling the smell of redwood soil and the daphne plant blooming. Puttering in our room also calls. Anything with a slow rhythm calls, like the satisfied mooing and bell-clanging that call peace to hikers through the Swiss alps.
This long water slide will drop me, drop Brian and me, out into the sudden splash of an infant into our lives. I keep waking up in the mornings, leisurely enjoying the feel of the sheets and the sun peeking in the window. Then I look over at the cradle next to my side of the bed and the reality of peaceful mornings is contrasted with the upcoming urgency of an infant's needs. And that infant will be ours. That infant's needs will be our responsibility. Wow.
It feels like more of a change than getting married did.