Today we started rearranging our smallish apartment for Jay’s coming. I felt a bit like we were too late, not just with that but with everything.
Jay should have been here 10 years ago.
Our steady jobs should’ve been here 10 years ago.
Some kind of house should be here for all of us to fit in. 2 rooms are going to get cramped real fast, although I know we’re lucky compared to some Bolivan family living in a cardboard hut. Always that luck …
Anyway, today all kinds of too-lates swirled in my head. Again.
All kinds of ‘we can’t have our first child now – in this situation’ – ‘with so little … settled …’
And maybe … that is BS.
I’ve read somewhere that there’s a time for all things.
To live. To die.
To love. To hate.
And probably to have children as well.
Maybe it is not as corny or superstitious as it sounds. Maybe it is just right.
Maybe what is important is that Char and I are his parents, and so it is the most important that we are here.
And more than ready.
Maybe that’s what Jay knew, too … somewhere, somehow.
I read a quotation by Rilke the other day, which might say it better:
“We are continually overflowing toward those who preceded us, toward our origin, and toward those who seemingly come after us. … It is our task to imprint this temporary, perishable earth into ourselves so deeply, so painfully and passionately, that its essence can rise again “invisibly,” inside us. We are the bees of the invisible. We wildly collect the honey of the visible, to store it in the great golden hive of the invisible.”
I think I know what it means and yet it is so eloquent that it makes me doubt that I do know after all.
Perhaps I have to experience it to know. That it is right. And in what way it is right.
Like having a child.