sunday thought: when your heart is touched

11/07/2010 § Leave a comment

Surrounded by ladies in the night, wining and dining and laughing and hugging. Each a character of their own. The tables — dark veneer, modern —  were separated into two groups of girls — light-hearted and real. Drinks were drank and some spilled, strawberries sliding and scattering across the table, floating on the small sea of bubbly. A three-course dinner was on its way.

The atmosphere could have been stifling — a live jazz singer whispering in the background, her smoky voice resonating off the wine-filled crystal, the pairing of people at two-tops courting over a bottle of vintage, our group sitting on a raised section, pedestal not intended.

However, we balanced each other out, brought everything back to earth with real talks. Some had been drinking since the morning, on their third intoxication for the day. Others were hunting for a designed scavenger hunt, kissing bald men and piggy-backing strangers, cocktail dresses hiked high. No one in the restaurant seemed to care, they knew this was a birthday/bachelorette — so coined a birthlorette.

Sitting at the corner of our table, R and I got to catch up on, not specific events, but life in general: babies, travel, love, and, most importantly, friendship. It had been over 8 months since I had seen her, the last time being when she told me she was 4 months pregnant. Sipping on a little wine together — not too much just a couple of glasses — we planned our exit so I could meet the new little man.

R & I:

– You are going to love him, he’s a really good baby. Quiet, giggly and hilarious. Now that he’s a few months old, he definitely has developed a personality. I’m really excited for you to meet him.

– Girl, you have no idea. I’m not even nervous, I just want to hold him and fawn over his hair.

– Of course. You are a caring person. You will have babies one day, too. Listen. I really want us to keep in touch.

– Don’t even. Obvi.

Something about the sincerity stirred a little lump in my throat. In that moment, I truly wanted to hug her and tell her that she doesn’t have to worry about us losing a thing.

We reminisced about the first time we were introduced, she remembered how I walked right up to her, without really knowing her at all, and wrapped my arms around her in a big, b-bear hug. Despite her discomfort with embraces, I remembered that she stuck it through, at least for a moment. It took a couple of years for her to get used to the idea of me hugging her three or four times every hang outs that we had. I would prolong every “hug session” a few seconds longer, just to give her that little extra push.

Now that she is a mom, there has been a shift. Her heart has been touched in a way that, as she said, is “indescribable”. She told me that labour was intense and painful, but the feeling that you get — the immediate euphoria and elation — from “popping one out” was borderline sublime. A shell had been broken.

Seeing her for the first time in a long time, we hugged each other tightly.

We left the party early, hailed a cab and entered the Sutton on Bay St., the glittering marble entryway impressive.

– Not bad, Nybs.

– Yeah. Internet deal. Who knew?

– Girl, you good.

My heart was racing with excitement as she pressed the number “15”, the elevator rocketed up. She could sense my excitement, peeling over glances at my wide grin, making her own grin grow. Walking into the room, in front of the white-linen King-size bed, there was Ann — an incredible lady and friend of theirs — and Catcher, sitting in cradle contraption. He smiled at mom coming home.

I can honestly say that it was love at first sight. All he had to do was sit there and revel in his puke-covered Puma-suit  perfection.

– Do you want to hold him?

– Most definitely.

– Honestly, he’s not as fragile as he looks. Just hold him like a little human or a puppy or whatever.

Coolest mom ever.

So it was, li’l Catch and I wandered the room, him on my hip facing outward, his gaze fixed to the television. I caught my reflection in a mirror and my heart melted, like the gooey dessert combination that R and I created over dinner — peanut butter parfait brulée. Just like that, I realized my shift. For so long I had felt like a hollow shell, but holding him made me feel that I melty chocolate on the inside. One day, I know I will care.

Then I got to thinking:

When your heart is touched, your world will open.

Dear Catcher, my world has changed. I will always consider myself your Auntie b.

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