I Hear a Guitar and Remember.

I hear Bill playing the guitar very softly in the candlelit living room. The chords he plays are those of melancholy, and yet somehow of promise. His voice is lilting and quiet, rocking along with the chords he knows so well. As he stumbles and finds notes he has never sung, the familiar rain continues to pelt the window beside me. I am reminded of something I wrote close to this time last summer, when I was heavy with our Sophie and the sky was crying still...

We needed rain yesterday. I've been preaching about it for weeks. I want a colorful fall, and, for that, we need rain. Finally, yesterday, the sky opened up for a few minutes and gave Maryland her much-needed shower. It was an awesome feeling - the rain pounding on the roof of our clean and basically-finished house. Bill, Miles, Sophie the Unborn and I lay in the bed for over an hour. After the storm, we ate dinner and I retreated to the bedroom, where I read, write and just plain old mess around on the computer. Suddenly, my guitar serenade in the living room stopped short. "Tuffy?" was the address I heard from the other room. "Yes, tuffy," I replied. And then came the sweet words that always remind me how much he really cares: "Have you started looking at schools yet?" A feeling of guilt washed over me as I realized that I hadn't been looking as hard as I knew I wanted to. But, he doesn't give up on me. He decided weeks ago that we would make graduate school happen for me next fall and has been pushing me since to send letters, get applications, etc. Instead of reprimanding me or letting it go, he came in the room, took the computer and lay down next to me. We spent the next two hours shuffling through universities, literature programs, cities, and assistantships on the net - me squirming, whining and acting silly, and him typing my information over and over again. It is amazing when you begin to know what your partner needs and just how to give it to them without being imposing or neglectful. As we finished up and I sent emails to the schools I wanted to pursue, I felt a rain of my own wash over my shoulders. All this, with the most exciting moment of my life and the greatest gift of all about to unfold; right now, my favorite spongebob cup is on the porch full of rain and it is literally running over.

...These are moments I have written in the annals of my life, and with them, I remember. I remember Sophie. I remember those brief and edenic moments during which she thrived in my womb, now drained of her. I remember how Bill loves her still with his guitar, and his work, and his poetry. And somehow, when I must reach deep inside to touch the hollowed space in my heart where she lives, still warm and wanted, I am comforted. How is it possible, with all of the pain and emptiness, that I still feel so very lucky. I have always felt so near to the word "providence", and today I remember. I remember how truly graced I am to have a man in my life who knows the truest and most essential parts of me, deeply sad and overflowing with joy, and, for them and their polarity, loves me all the more. Even in the dark days following our Sophie's sleep, Bill and I were able to look through the brimming tears and acknowledge how truly "lucky" we were and are to have each other. I am "lucky" to have a flitting, living spirit - an angel to forever watch me. And, as I hear Bill whispering my name now in song, I know how blessed I am to have a soul mate.