LABORING BEFORE LABOR DAY

I gave birth today. I conceived at 11 AM Eastern Daylight Time, labored for three hours, and birthed at 2 PM (1400). Oh, there were some post-partum convulsions (called editing revisions, I think), but I basically collapsed, exhausted, at two in the afternoon, spent, drained.

I had seen an article in the local advertising newspaper (which I rarely read) at breakfast. It grabbed my attention, and I started speculating on it to my husband, who scoffed. I built on my thoughts, silly as they were, and then, was compelled to rush to the other room, turn on my computer and open Word. This compulsion, this feeling of being propelled into the action of writing, was never so acute as this morning's event.

The rest of the day's events were not so noble: our aging cat (almost 18, which I am given to understand is equivalent to 90 in human years) has decided to mimic the American soldier's dictum that 'the world is his latrine'. Our apartment is her litter box. Excrementally speaking, that is. Words nearly fail me. Suffice it to say, I would have been better off had I spent the afternoon and evening following her around with a dust pan to catch the excreta, rather than cleaning every rug in sight. The smell was, well, astonishing.

It's a good thing I love her. I still do, even after today's debacle.

I took many pictures of her, resting peacefully in the sunlight on our bed. It is somehow important that I hold on to that image of her, peaceful, of peace, inner peace, on this weekend when Americans rush around in frantic activity. Remember, hold on to the peace, within us, for without us, there is no peace.

Peace.

Stromek