08.07.07 Spilled Milk
The third chapter of my book is called Spilled Milk. It’s all about the second beatitude: Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.” I’ve really struggled with this chapter, mostly with how to begin, but I think I made progress today:
I was there when she came out with her mother’s eyes and my nose. Beautiful.
She was all swollen with deep creases at her joints and lots of places in between, segmented rolls of beautiful, looking more like a bundle of sausages in a diaper than a body and head, arms and legs. Beautiful dimpled knees crawled after the cats. Beautiful ruby lips cooed from the crib. Beautiful puffy fingers wrapped around my pinky.
Eventually, they played patty cake. Then they held crayons. They steered a tricycle across the street. Then they painted my finger nails and dug for doodle bugs. Beautiful.
And then they spilled a glass of milk one morning at breakfast. And everything changed.
She was three. I remember it well, from toaster to tears. I was cutting a freshly warmed waffled into choke-proof squares on the kitchen counter. Gabriella was coloring at the table, patiently waiting for breakfast as the sun slowly rose through the hackberry trees out back and threw shadows and light onto her picture.
We think she must have scooted in her chair to get out of the sun’s rays - we’re not sure - but milk was spilled.
“Dammit!” she yelled and collapsed into a tearful tantrum.
I laughed while Becky began interrogating and consoling Gabriella simultaneously. “You’re OK, Sweety. I’ll get you some more milk… Where’d you hear that word? Do you remember? Did -”
“You really need to watch your mouth around the kids,” I joked. “I know you get ticked off in traffic but…for the children, Becky.”
Even beauty is busted. I know this. But why cry over spilled milk?
Then I move on to answer that question.
I doubt I’ll be allowed to keep the word “Dammit” in there. Shame, really. What better way to argue for greater shock at the sight and sound of depravity than to create shock with depravity? At least that’s how my depraved brain is working today.
The book, by the way, is slated to release August 2008.
Kat said:
Last year my daughter was supposed to bring something to show and tell that started with the letter f. As she was thinking of things she’ just started making up words and she eventually, and much to our dismay, happened upon a word that rhymed with duck.
We snickered. She noticed. And repeated. We finally contained our laughter. It hasn’t been said since.
Whew.
August 2008? Cool.