We sit eating cake together. Rich chocolate cake baked by a great friend to us both. Homemade cake delivered weekly because it used to be one of the only foods you would actively open your mouth for. I need the cake now. Need the sugar high to distract me from feeling low. I have just finished reading a Modern Love column in NY Times about a mother whose child died suddenly at age five. Couldn't help myself. Couldn't stay away. Now here I am again, contemplating loss when I would rather be teaching my toddler animal noises. When I would rather be playing with my big kids.I choose not to dwell, I choose to eat cake. I take small bits and feed them to you. No, not feed them to you- TRY to feed them to you. Your jaw and brain aren't connected today. It's the end of the day, you're tired. I'm tired. I want to share a moment with you. I push the piece further into your mouth to stimulated your mouth to do what it's been trained to do since birth. Suck or chew, seems so easy. I don't move fast enough. You bite down, hard on my finger. The pain of the bite pulsates through me. The pain of this moment overwhelms me. I cry from pain, and that cry triggers a deeper more primal cry. I know enough about myself to know I'll feel better after I let it out, so I allow my feelings to come up. I allow the tears to choke my throat. I pause. That's enough. It's enough. It's already too much I tell myself. I swallow, dry my eyes, take a breath and move on.Now I need a new moment to lift me. Cake didn't work. I run back to what always works. I run to my husband and other children playing baseball outside. Oblivious to my tears and delighted by my presence my kids encourage me to take an at bat. I swing and hit a home run. I swing hard again and again and knock the ball far enough that my six year old looks impressed. I silently thank my childhood little league coach for giving me just enough skill in-between my frequent daydreaming in the outfield to live this moment.My tears now a memory. The pain in my finger is slightly less. The pain in my heart is back down to a manageable ache. I return to the kitchen where I've left you, and there you sit, impossibly still, oblivious to my absence, yet with a slight smile on your face.
Seeking a connection