rebellious contentment | poetry and prose and prosetry | writing about toddlers, incarnation, divorce, physicality, love | human of an adorably stupid bulldog
At our wedding, we read the bittersweet passage from Ecclesiastes: “Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain (more literally “breathy”, transient, fleeting) life that are given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in…
from our bedroom window I watch you
watching seeds sprout and leaves unfurl,
I’m completely happy to be (and even enjoy being) Mrs. New-husband’s-last-name in social/family circles, even if I’m not changing anything legally. But I’m thoroughly annoyed to be called Mrs. New-husband’s-FIRST-AND-last-name. I’ve joined a family; I haven’t erased my personal identity.
Heretical as it may be, I’m not yet ready to argue with my five-year-old’s apparent conviction that the Holy Trinity is the eternally coexistent “God-and-Jesus-and-Santa-Claus.”