That’s the moment I always think of – when the 

slick, whole body comes out of me,

when they pull it out, not pull it but steady it

as it pushes forth, not catch it, but steady it

as it pushes forth, not catch it but keep their 

hands under it as it pulses out,

they are the first to touch it,

and it shines, it glistens with the thick liquid on it.

~ Excerpt from “The Moment the Two Worlds Meet,” by Sharon Olds

First day of December. There is the bustle of getting ready for my Charles River Writers, and a purposeful walk around the property to get a start on collecting my greens for the planters at the doors. I take the wagon. I find a few pictures of ice, none that I fall in love with. I am picking up pine branches that have recently fallen, and a few berries where I find them. When my wagon is full I return home to arrange them. Charlies is quite sad; he was expecting more. I have a swim and it’s time to start group. House so quiet, and then the arrivals, and I am happy to see everyone, to hear the cheerful conversations. I have prepared a prompt for December that works well to generate lovely writing. Tonight I ask Frank who is busy in meetings and dinner engagements if he remembers what day it is tomorrow; and it’s not front of mind for him as it always is for me, this awareness I carry with me through this day before my first child, son, was born, on a December second in Florida, over two weeks late and quite slow to come after all after all. I bumped into him briefly in his thirties in the yard today. How handsome he is, and that smile. We know each other well now. I am lucky and grateful, aware of what’s going on in the world and my babies who are not my babies safe and sound tonight. Meditation and candles lit.