I had coffee this morning with Susan. Susan works in the Registrar's Office, where I spent five years as Assistant University Registrar (question about transfer credit or degree audits? I'm your man.). For no good reason it's been weeks - perhaps more than a month - since I've stopped by the Registrar's Office. We caught up on all kinds of things, from projects to personal stuff. She's got some new hobby for her dog Portia to start on, some kind of athletic contest for well-trained dogs.
After coffee, I headed over to the Registrar's Office to catch up with everyone else. I didn't get to see everyone, but I did spend time catching up with Carolyn (the Registrar). Before I knew it, it was eleven o'clock and I was off to three meetings. I had to leave the last of those meetings for a workshop I was teaching for the automated degree audit system we're just beginning to implement. This afternoon's workshop was part one of a two-part workshop that we'll finish tomorrow.
Five o'clock. The day was over and I'd not set foot in my office. From seven thirty to five o'clock, never checking messages, never scanning e-mail, never eating lunch. And I barely noticed that the day went as quickly as it did.
Jean seems noticeably bigger than yesterday. Rounder. I know things don't occur in 24-hour spurts, but she really looks BIG now. And she's not done cooking yet! Baby's been swimming laps all day in there, and Jean's been feeling a little less comfortable than a week ago.
I'm not sure that either of us are ready for baby. I don't think we're getting the big picture. I know what Joanna told Jean: eight weeks of boot camp when baby (might as well call her Bumpy) arrives. No sleep. Constant crying. Diapers. Pain. Postpartum depression. Anger. Words.
Okay. But I still don't think we get it. Jean keeps talking of her disbelief that there's going to be a third person living in our house soon. This gets closer to the sense we seem to be missing. For the next twenty-two years (if we're lucky), Bumpy will be our direct responsibility.
I'm still not there. And I don't think I will ever be there. I don't know if I need to be. The trick is to be present all the time, with the future in peripheral vision. If someone were to describe my professional career to me (my retirement party is in 2033), I'm sure I wouldn't get it. If I tried to wrap my head around decades of married life, I don't think I'd understand. Life comes in baby steps. Bit by bit, putting it together - that kind of thing.
If I can keep my focus on what's now and what's next, the big stuff should fall into place.
Please remind me of this lunatic optimism in mid-February. Thank you.
The moon tonight was a dusty yellow, quite different from its purer
incarnations earlier in the week. On the way home, a police car
stopped in the middle of the Huguenot Bridge, and the police officer
jumped out of his car and talked to a woman who was standing on the
bridge, looking. I don't know if someone called the police because
they thought she was going to jump, but after three or four minutes I
think he was convinced that she was just looking at the moon over the
James River. He got back in his cruiser and continued across the
bridge.
listening: Star Trek VI (Orignal Soundtrack)
watching: Forest Gump (bits and pieces)
reading: The Hobbit (J.R.R. Tolkien); 1 Maccabees
© 1998 Kevin J.T. Creamer