Motherhood By Chris Devaney 10/15/04 I cried this evening. I haven’t cried in a long, long time. No I haven’t. But maybe I was due. The sun was going down, the dogs had been fed, I had the 6 bottles of milk substance prepared for the baby yak made up and stored upon the headboard of the bed for late night distribution. The slate was clean, I was ready for night. So I went out to sit on the doorstep with a cup of wine to watch the evening sun go down. To my delight, Jeannie-Lin the baby yak was lying on the steps too, so together we watched the incoming night. And so we did. But I noticed she was strangely melancholy, just staring off into the waning sunlight. I recalled her last night’s bout with what I thought was indigestion and couldn’t help notice her off-schedule reluctance to take her bottle. So I sat with her for a spell and together we watched the sun go down and the darkness enfold. I rubbed her ears, her side, kissed her face and waited. I came to the sad realization that my Jeannie-Lin was growing up. Leaving me behind. . . wanting her own something . . . but what? She didn’t know. But I did. And so I cried. Fifty years ago, I was a confused boy. I wanted to belong to something, to someone . . . but to what? To whom? I had not a clue. I enjoyed my youth as best I could, dealt with a strange anger, learned how to communicate with an aggressive world, and studied things for no reason except to tax my mind. I had no information on what was important, yet over time it became a little clearer, or perhaps merely acceptable. Jeannie-Lin is feeling a longing to belong. She has no clue as to what to belong to. The dogs, the duo-legged guy, both help to pass the time but do not provide the substance that is life. And that is what is calling her. She sniffs the air, she eyes the yaks, and her mind fills with wonder . She feels compelled to come to the dogs and I for companionship and substance. Oh my, how sad. A big and growing part of her life is empty. There is a void . . . I can see it . . . she feels it . . . and so do the dogs. We need to get her with her kin. And so I hurt for her emptiness. I hurt for my coming emptiness as well. I hope to bring in a yak or two into the new yak room and let her and they interact every night. Each night perhaps a different yak, but each night a yak to talk to, to rub up against, to smell. . . to be with, to poop on the floor and watch with amusement as the duo-leg guy cusses and picks it up. I plan, unless it gets totally unwieldy to leave the doors between the new yak room and our bedroom open so Jeannie-Lin can make her transition at her own speed. Of course this depends a lot on how the dogs take to this but if there is one positive thing that has come from bringing up baby, it is the complacence that the dogs have shown to yaks near and in the house. So, we engage another phase of life, one that is new to me in yak herding, that of yak integration. I can’t tell you how hard it will be to let her out the door in the morning not knowing if she will come back in to sleep with us again or be on her own like a yak should be. Motherhood is so God-damn hard! They never told me about this shit in school! They didnt teach me about breast (bottle) feeding either. I had to learn that on my own.
Posted on: Thu, 16 Oct 2014 00:15:07 +0000
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