Comraderie

I've been MIA. This has been a busy week; well, not so much busy as people-filled, with hardly a minute of privacy. This morning I'm finally alone, and have been looking forward to writing.

Here we are. This past week I've been host to an old friend, galloping around the city like tourists, doing all the little things we're known for here but that no one who lives here actually does. We've window-shopped, ate at flagship restaurants, walked historic neighbourhoods. Enjoyed the city. A nice retreat from the routine of living here, allowing us to see the familiar surroundings in a new light.

I had fun. I had moments of happiness, even. But yet it was still tainted. For a few moments here or there I could slip into another psyche- allowing myself to get excited over a beauitful raw silk purse at a downtown store or a delicious special at the cafe. In a way, I felt like an imposter in my own body. I would snap back to reality, where a nice purse is irrelevant, and I'm not hungry for the daily special. My baby is dead.

On Friday night another friend invited us to a beach for a bonfire, with her sister and two nieces, 7 and 10. I say "beach" in the strictest definition- no sand in sight, but the rocky shoreline is perfect for a bonfire. M and I headed down at dusk, to find them, fire blazing, amongst the other families with the same idea. M went to work adjusting the fire for maximum effectiveness, eagerly taking the traditional male role amongst all the girls. We all chatted. The little girls were running around, finding starfish and interesting rocks, demanding we host impromtu singing competitions and requesting to bake cookies the following day. They were sweet.

The sister is also a babylostmama, although I don't know the details. As well as I thought I knew this family, I never knew anything of this until Charlotte. I know the lost baby was a boy, in between the two girls. I found myself at ease with her even though I haven't seen her in years, There was a sense of knowing between the two of us, even though deadbabies was not a topic of conversation.

As the little girls chased each other up and down the beach, she was quick to call them back. The ocean, the fires, too many imminent dangers.

I can never just let them run, she said. I worry too much. I don't know if it's because.....

Her voice trailed off. I knew what she was thinking. I nodded in agreement. I wouldn't be able to either.

As dusk grew to dark and the beach was dotted with dozens of fires from cliff to cliff, the warm breeze (a true rarity here!) was comforting. I could have stayed there forever. It was the first time, in a long long time, that I felt like me. Not the put-a-smile-on-my-face-so-everyone-else-will-be-comfortable me, but really me.

I liked it.