Filled To The Rim

My life is brilliant. My heart is pure. I saw an angel. Of that I’m sure.

I’m sitting on the floor of the nursery, with music playing from my phone.  White snow globes with children frolicking around a Christmas tree, along with other gifts of hand lotions and pajamas, and ribbons and wrapping paper and scissors and tape, lie around me.  This is my Christmas workshop.  In the past, when the nursery was the miscellaneous room, this time of the year ranked high on my list of enjoyments.  I found great pleasure from driving out to the stores, and struggling with the traffic and the parking and possibly the customer service, all so I could ruminate on and finally select the most perfect presents for the friends and family on my list.  After I completed the purchases, I deposited the bags in the workshop.  Then, later, I found equal joy from locking myself in the room to wrap the gifts and to top them with bows and then finish them off with handmade gift tags. I felt privileged to be able to sit in a warm home and to wrap in boxes presents I hoped would bring surprise and bliss to their recipients.

Tonight, as I listen to James Blunt sing about a woman who smiled at him on the subway, I feel my babies — they are not here, but they are.  It is mystifying how the soul endures beyond the physical form.  Tonight, my heart is full because of Daffy and Kiri — it is filled to the rim with memories of their first ultrasounds, of their first kicks, of Danith caressing my belly in vain in search of them, of Danith and me lying in bed and speaking love words for each other, and for them.  My heart is filled to the rim with gratitude on a night such as this, when my mind travels to how it used to be but the presence of Daffy and Kiri insists on how it could be, still.  Within the perimeter of the crib and the glider and the changing table, my babies’ brilliant light flips on, illuminating the walls of the workshop and sparking warmth in my cheeks. As I am taping the wrapping paper corners and choosing a ribbon to complement the paper, I see the many scattered unwrapped presents around me, and I also see a joy that I have missed.  My heart is filled to the rim with hope that soars with invisible wings, propelling me forward.  I am flying high.