Very soon, all this will be amnesia, including my increasingly enfeebled attempts to hold it all in memory.
The buildings are razed, by machinery rather than by fire, and those that remain, damaged, are held up by nailed-on chipboard and large concrete blocks out of which steel poles extend.
**
In February, my friend Jane and I took in Julia Morison’s Meet me on the other side, my anxiety about venturing into the central city offset by the beauty of the NG building as a venue: not only the polished wood floor and plain walls, but the massive steel reinforcing beams that passed high above our heads. It was an exhibition of beautiful-ugly finished-abortive objects, so many of whose names evoked our common consciousness in this town, these days.
Missing thing
Curious thing
Fretful thing
Poor thing
Thing in the making
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This week I had a miscarriage. Troubling symptoms had been accruing for some time until they began to suggest the inevitable, the irrevocable, but it was still a hard, hard thing to see what we had begun to talk of as our baby so still under ultrasound, the same size as three weeks earlier and without a heartbeat.
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With our recent news I silently vowed that these pages would not become a single-note wedding-and-baby theme, but, if I am honest, I am finding it difficult to think of much else about which I may write. Work dominates my daily life and the dogs my leisure much as ever, but I place the same thematic restrictions on them. Thus it is that I must admit defeat and turn my narratorial hand to the topics du jour, the author as mother-and-bride-to-be.
There is a public health system ready to induct parents-to-be and it is one of which I do not mind being a part. It is a pleasure to interact with people who work in health when my basic condition is wellness and theirs something like professional excitement. I note this in particular right now, when my union work brings me into contact with people for whom working life has become intolerable in some respect. The people assigned to my pregnancy are people who demonstrably love their jobs, which is a contrasting experience for me (and one about which my unionist’s mind would like to ask some probing questions).
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Thing in the Making
16 May, 2012
in at home,commentatrix,in Aotearoa,we are family
Very soon, all this will be amnesia, including my increasingly enfeebled attempts to hold it all in memory.
The buildings are razed, by machinery rather than by fire, and those that remain, damaged, are held up by nailed-on chipboard and large concrete blocks out of which steel poles extend.
**
In February, my friend Jane and I took in Julia Morison’s Meet me on the other side, my anxiety about venturing into the central city offset by the beauty of the NG building as a venue: not only the polished wood floor and plain walls, but the massive steel reinforcing beams that passed high above our heads. It was an exhibition of beautiful-ugly finished-abortive objects, so many of whose names evoked our common consciousness in this town, these days.
[click to continue…]
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