I feel as though we were all born for some purpose; I'm quite sure that my purpose has something to do with the way sound bleeds into colour bleeds into feelings and everything else like that. But there are people I know whose purposes are quite different yet just as strong, as tenacious, and as inherently known to them as I feel about what I love the most.
My aunty, mother-to-be, was born into this role. The golden glow surrounding her as she clasped champagne and frantically lamented the fact that cottontail undies are no longer produced was absolutely and positively there and all of us could see it and feel it. She had all the sweet softness of an expectant mother, as it should be, because everything is now as it should be. I didn't realise so much until just two days ago when I walked into the room in their house which has been quietly awaiting little bodies for years. At this point I didn't know about our new arrivals so I saw the delicate wall painting of a little girl in a paddock, and the calico dolls my little sister had made sitting drooping on the beds, and the quilts my Nanna had made with Peter Rabbit appliqued on to the soft fabric and I left, unhappy, uncomfortable and upset, feeling the incompleteness of purpose and the linger of so much love with no where to go.
But that is not the case anymore. All the love we have to give now has somewhere to go and I feel as though it will increase exponentially when we meet our new little additions. That's all I will say here and now because I could get caught up in the point of living and I don't really feel like going there today.
Just know that things are happening and things are changing and for once I'm not completely stunned and frightened by this.
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