When you live in a place of temperature extremes, you tend to forget, when
it’s hot, how cold it can get; and when it’s cold, how hot it can get. Like the
simply stupid pain of childbirth, the memory becomes but a signpost to the reality:
you know it’s wild, but until you’re right in it again, you forget just how wild
it really is. To drag this metaphor out into its own extreme, I recall
screaming, ‘Bring me drugs! BRING ME DRUGS YOU BASTARDS!’ in my 18th
hour of ‘natural’ (har-de-fucking-har) childbirth the first time around; the
second time it took me all of about 15 minutes to hiss at the expectant father,
‘I swear I will tear your face right off your skull unless you get me drugs
this second, and I don’t care if you have to sell our first child to do it.’
And I meant it.
|I love how the flaming sun reflected on Jill's firepit |
mosaic - it really brought it to life!