State of Latency

2010.09.08_098



Latent: existing or present but concealed.

The midwife put my fingers on Stephie's lower abdomen and told me to press.  My fingers were about 3 inches apart.  "Can you feel the baby's head?"    I felt it, but could not really believe it.

You are given 9 months.   To wrap your fingers around your own head.   To get everything ready - when all you really need are some small diapers, a car seat, and some ointment.  To feel these tiny elbows and knees hiccuping and  poking around Stephie's belly. To imagine your family with a new name.  To hear a new heart beating through a cheap speaker - imagining your own heart ready to spill over.  To make sure nothing gets lost in the shuffle.

I am writing about a baby not even quite born and listening to Sonny Rollins (who is now 80!) blow his horn so hard and beautifully and loud.  He is playing, "Why I Was Born."   Everything I could possibly want to write is blowing from his horn.  Jackson is providing extra percussion running around and jumping upstairs.  Rocking from Sonny's horn to Stephie's belly to Jackson's brother who is posed head down, present but concealed, just about ready to roll.