This past week we got to visit the birthing floor of The UVM Medical Center, seeing rooms, the NICU, and the post-pardum rooms…and that is when another level of “real” started to sink in. Just when I think “Wow, this is really going to freakin’ happen!” and I think that I have truly felt the future impinging on me—like the future is an actual thing out there around some bend in the road but the bend is way out there, further away. It is just when this occurs that something new happens, some new experience explodes into existence and surpasses everything prior—it could be unexpected like when you’re watching a movie or tv show and start getting choked up about the on screen relationship; or it could be wholly expected, like when you visit the birthing rooms and see where you son or daughter is going to arrive into the world.
It is these instances, these moments when life, mortality, love, connection become so incredibly clear, so seemingly tangible and yet so fleetingly indescribable. They drift through my mind, float into my very being and yet I am incapable of actually recounting them. I feel like I am cresting and descending wave after wave, only to see one huge wave in the distance that will inevitably give way to another and another. That is the blessing and the curse of the human experience: we are continually inundated with “the new” and we must adapt, change, become more than we are now in order to move forward. Who will I become? What will I do? Where will we go? and around the bend……is me; only different; changed, but hopefully better because I will have experienced an irrevocably monumental future that is, everyday, coming closer.