The morning of May 19th a dozen plus one years ago, I kind knew one baby (gender yet unspecified) was about to arrive. Nothing more than cramps, but I suspected those cramps meant business. The sun shone, one of those achingly gorgeous May mornings.
The toddler in my arms—crookedly because of my enormous belly—seemed so small and I knew he was about to morph into a giant, a grown-up kid, a big brother. I tried—I still remember trying—to drink in his youth. I remember thinking I could not capture any of it, though—not his babyhood or my mama to a beloved one and only. I have photographs (on film). They remind me that this particular morning happened and that I thought these thoughts and felt terrified I wouldn’t really have enough love for two.
Twenty-five minutes after my water broke, the bronco ride concluded and one Lucien emerged, a minute after noon on that glorious bright day. That his name meant light felt entirely purposeful, entirely and tenderly as it was all meant to be.
Turned out I had plenty of love for him.
Sometimes, I’ve really needed it. He is as bright as the day he was born when he’s shining and he also has some stormy streaks. He continues to give bronco rides from time to time.
So, now there are two teenagers living under our roof.
**
On the way home from Sunnyside, I told Saskia we were going to a restaurant for Lucien’s birthday dinner and that this restaurant had French fries. She asked the obvious question: “Do they have ketchup?”
“They do,” I answered. She clasped her hand over her ‘o’ shaped expression and exhaled with excitement.
**
Two is certainly, in its way, more than twice the work of one yet, in its way, less. The pair might become pals. As a parent, their being pals makes you infinitely happy.
Naïve or hooked on that golden sunshiny kind of day Lucien arrived, we are a family of six and seem to have not nearly enough energy but plenty of love (don’t ask if we ever get them all to bed).
Plus, thankfully, we won’t have four teenagers at once.
