Black and White

Her little black eyes
Entries to a Tardis
Of vast conciousness uncluttered
By nomenclature

Her soul a depth of infinite purity
A luke warm, shimmering pool
Reflecting the heavens

Exposed to everything
Yet seeing nothing

And yet here is the root of her clarity

And it brings me back to that day
Less than a year old
Surrounded by water
Dark, unknown shapes watching from below
Purity of emotion
As I swam behind my Mother
A soul beginning

Conception and beyond

A self-arranged marriage
Genes entwined
Lingering saliva joined
Glycoproteins
An unstoppable flowering
Curled, uncurled
Pink transparency
Nature neither knows
Nor cares
Yet compels her creations
To be so passionate
That we are shocked by her insouciance

Starting again

Well, it looks like the last post on here was more than a year ago now. At that time I had recently recovered from a rather unpleasant medical complaint resulting in (through a knock on effect) a bit of a nervous breakdown. Recovering my composure I was yet to experience the dislocation of my knee in July that led to me being off work for six weeks - plenty of time to unwittingly make babies it would seem. And I would have been shocked, dismayed and again shocked to see myself now with a three week old child.

I might be tempted if I had the opportunity to reassure my past self that, in fact, fatherhood is a wonderful and unique experience and it was about time I experienced it. Certainly my Dad said "We were starting to think it was never gonna happen." And it's interesting to see the way that people's motivations change overnight. I mean, me...? I was the original child-resenting, mother-and-toddler hating, "single" bachelor. I kind of knew that I wanted my own kids one day and I suppose because it was still so far distant in my imagination that I guessed that I would have plenty of time to come to terms with it. Of course I knew that I would love my  own child. And when I met the right person it would be a natural progression.

So when this situation was forced upon me and the initial dismay had passed I found myself inevitably taking an interest in the baby book that Laura had forced under my nose.

And that is how it happens to many of us. When we feel that we will never grow up and never lower ourselves to talking about DIY, house prices, baby and child behaviour and whatever else seems a terrible grind at the time, we do suddenly find ourselves reversed and flipped over when these situations find us. And of course now anything baby related is fascinating to me. Except for baby clothes. I'll draw a line there. Baby girls dresses. I mean there's no need. Baby clothes give me a reassuring opportunity to express part of my masculine rejection of that "scene"