God created life.
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I wished I had been born blue. Not blue, as in heartrending or permeating sadness, for I know that was already the case, just as I know any fact of life: this world can be a constant wheezing breath, a minute by minute movement, carrying on in an airy dance of elation toward our death. No, I’m talking the medical term, as in blue baby, as in born not breathing. Medically speaking, “blue babies” are born with a heart defect that causes the veins to pool the blood, which gives the appearance of blue skin instead of the pink skin of a healthy baby. This is how I wished my life had started, for I imagine after my miracle resuscitation there would’ve been a new appreciation of life for my infant self. This would not be merely because I was born blue, as in sad; rather, because this moment in my parent’s life would have been blessed in festive feelings -a sort of wild gesture to God. There would have been great exclamation, the kind of exclamations that are revealed in the Old Testament.
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That would have been nice.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Blue Baby (a novel excerpt)
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10 comments:
I smile, even as I wonder, and float along with you through this blue dream of post blue exclamations. Your writing reminds me a little of Marilyn Robinson. It flows with unpredictable newness.
Garnet,
thank you for the comment. i do not know who she is, but i will definetly check her writing out. "unpredictable newness," can i put that on my jacket cover? Again, thank you.
I’m smiling with Garnet. This post turned the corners of my lips up, made me chuckle, and shake my head. Reminded me of thoughts from Jack Handy.
My mother was said to have been a blue baby. The chord was wrapped around her neck at birth, and her doctor shouted, “WE’VE GOT A BLUE BABY HERE.” as he delivered her in my grandmother’s bedroom. Much rejoicing ensued.
Fineartist,
that's funny, because when i first wrote this, i was thinking of a story that happened the way you describe.
Wish I had the power to make you the well paid (appreciated) writer.
*Just letting you know I often stop by. :)
WriterMom,
thanks for stopping by often. And thank you for recognizing that writers, (theatre writers especially), are often under appreciated. I enjoy your post often, too.
I was born a "blue baby" and most of the time this syndrome leads to severe brain damage. In my case, I like to attribute who I am to my refusal to take my first breath. A kind of cold defiance. But, we all take that first breath for granted. I do like your style, and look forward to reading more.
Thanks for the comments on my verse. I know I need to strip some of the useless word away, but then the symetry suffers. Thanks again for the encouragement. You don't know how much I smile now, thanks to you.
This actually made me sad, thinking your parents didn't appreciate a healthy baby.
I love the way your words flow, and that is why I stopped writing. My writing voice is very staccato and I seem to only appreciate legato.
I look forward to reading much more of your blog when I'm not sooooo freaking tired.
HG, check out Marilyn Robinson's Housekeeping, or Gilead.
I enjoyed our conversation about presence. I think about it a lot. I think most writers cannot control what their presence is, but they can control how much they open up, though even that's delicate. I'm focusing on the idea of vulnerability. I believe it's the most valuable source for a writer. It's the root.
First comment after a couple of visits. I love your spare style -- it's evocative. I'll be back...
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