Susan's Blog

Saturday, March 20, 2010


Each one of them made their appearance to me like the stork-brought babies in Dumbo.
The unfolding of the blanket — I could not swaddle them; the edges fell away limp and loose. It was like I just couldn’t put them away, even for a moment. So Ned did it for me.

Looking at their faces for hours, trying to figure it out. Who are you? I asked Max, laughing at his square-ball head and tiny pointy nose. Where did you come from? I talked to Nat, my lips never far from his head, my nose from his skin, like he was my food, my air.

But you — if ever there was a Changeling, you would be it. Dark, moody. Always thinking.
The worlds you draw. The words you write. Piercingly grim, achingly hopeful. Every nuance carefully shaded, intentionally subtle. All is there for a reason, everything purposeful. Angles I would never consider. Stories that make me shiver — with joy, with sadness.

And yet that is also us. Sometimes it is harder to see what is closest.

I write this because it is four days until you slipped into the world, my little B-nut, a third gift from God.

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