Poet Blessings.

I have a new annoying habit of waking up at least an hour before I need to. This means that I end up hungry and end up eating second breakfast to avoid starving at work. This may or may not be contributing to the stray and completely unnecessary stretch marks that are showing up all over me. 

Speaking of food, someone stole my lunch on Tuesday. I'm not talking about a PB&J. I'm talking about a frozen steamer meal of pasta, marinara, tomatoes, sausage, and meatballs. The dejection (and extreme suspicion of everyone in my building) was pretty all-consuming for part of the afternoon.

Yesterday was a good day though. I had the crazy good fortune of having my thesis adviser and one of my thesis readers come to my school to give readings in the spring. In fact, my thesis adviser came just when Oliver began to hear outside sounds. How cool is that? Anyway, yesterday, a professor with whom Josh and I took a class together came to read. I didn't really expect him to remember me since it was a class he team taught with a visiting poet (if only she would come too!). But he had that trying-to-place-you look when he shook my hand, and as soon as I told him how we'd met, he remembered me and Josh.

"Didn't you two get married?"
"Yes. We're having a baby. Two and a half weeks!"
"Or whenever," my coworker said.

Josh came to the main reading in the library, and our Mr. Poet said hello to him in the middle of his presentation. The reading was excellent, and Oliver seemed very responsive to the voice. Afterward, Mr. Poet came to talk to us, and the college president (who is an old friend) then talked to him about us. The P and VP came to meet Josh, saying they had seen him on campus. Josh explained that he's on standby for the big event. The P invited Josh along to the lunch at the P's house. Well! Now, everyone knows who Josh is, and I would get to have him with me.

The house was lovely. The P and his wife gave us an adorable sleeper set with bear feet and a pattern of little bears cuddling their blankets. It came with a cloth (machine washable!) bear to cuddle. The food included a chicken casserole with fancy green beans and almonds; bread crumb, onion, and zucchini casserole; yeasty rolls; and some kind of tomato gelatin. Josh the veggie-head did just fine. We sat on a cushioned glider on the screen-in, ceiling-fanned porch. We chatted with administrators and my coworkers and answered Mr. Poet's questions about what we've been doing. He kept telling everyone that he takes credit for our marriage. We also got to meet his wife, whom I liked right away. I felt unusually relaxed (despite a slight fear with every twinge that I may stain the president's white cushion with some labor-y fluid). Then, Josh went to get me a generous slice of cake. The cake was pumpkin with a thin layer of spiced icing and walnut halves. I can't describe the perfection of it.

We said goodbye, and Mr. Poet told us to let him know. He complimented our literary choice of name and was just charming all around (in his coat, tie, bushy beard, hiking sandals, and woolly socks). Josh and I started thinking about all those creative writing classes we took together and about the evenings at the visiting poet's octagonal cottage, drinking raspberry soda in plastic wine glasses and talking about writing. We were poor and outcast and alone up on a mountain, but it was a beautiful and privileged time in our lives.

I think some kind of fairy tale is here. Since I began, in earnest, my journey to motherhood, I have received visits from two of my MFA professors and one professor Josh and I shared when we were beginning our lives together. They've all read their poems, and in their way, blessed this baby and me.