Awakenings

I awoke at 3:30 this morning full of uncertainty.  Perhaps a rehearsal of things to come.

We are very close now and I am filled with the excitement and anticipation of a child’s Christmas morning.

It was chilly in the bedroom. the cat snuggled up between us seeking our warmth and naive of the fact that our small pack will soon have a new member.  I had been dreaming, nothing specific, but I remember seeing my Mother and Father and my nephew Tristan, all now deceased.  I felt a little sad but also comforted.  I wish they were here to meet my daughter.

I pulled on some pants and a warm shirt and stepped outside, sadly to smoke a cigarette, not quite finished with that.  It was so peaceful and the sky clear.  There were quite a few stars visible considering that we live in a city and one can normally see very few.

There was Jupiter off to the southeast, and Mars on the eastern horizon.

What jumped out at me though was Orion, the hunter.  His belt of three stars, his bow aimed and ready.  They have always given me a sense of comfort and wonder ever since I was a child.  My earliest memory is of Orion and the stars.  I was probably around four years old, looking out the windows of the front room of my first home on Grant Avenue in Brooklyn.  My mother was sitting in a chair and one of my older brothers, Greg I think, was pointing out the constellations.  I remember being excited that I was able to make out the figure of Orion by connecting the dots.  That memory fills me with longing.  And magic.

I sat quietly looking up at the vastness of the night.  Thoughts of my mother returned.  I asked for her protection.  To watch over my wife and my daughter.  To somehow continue her nurturing from elsewhere.

I am going to be a father soon and for the rest of my life.  I’m not old, but older than most who have a first child.  I can’t help but look at my time as limited and it sometimes worries me.  I want to see my daughter grow up and come into her own. I want Lindsay and I to have a long life together filled with love and wonder.

I apologize for all the navel gazing, but awakening in the middle of the night will often have that effect on me.

I climb back into the warm bed, my head filled with stars, and reach over to Lindsay, sleeping soundly, between her nightly awakenings.  I place my hand on her ripe belly, my future contained within.  The cat crawls down deeper under the covers.  I imagine us, curled up in this autumnal bed, as a heavenly body, gliding through space together.  Always.

I am filled with wonder.