It happened there on the stairs in the den. I had gone in search of a scarf to wear in the winter closet. Chup and I were going out to the theater. Chicky--my lively, responsible niece--was there to babysit for the evening. I was slowly climbing up the stairs.
I was thinking about the carpet in the den.
It is green.
Then: a tickle inside of me caused me to pause.
Pause. Was it a tickle, a tickle tickle?
Play. The carpet is so green and flat.
But easy to walk on . . .
Pause. Should I count this as the first movement of my pregnancy?
Play. Should I get new carpet?
Pause. I think that was a tickle.
Play. I walked up the stairs, out the door where Chup was holding the car door open for me. Just like a million-dollar-an-hour chauffeur. And I was his V.I.P.
When we arrived at the theater I went into the bathroom. I caught myself in the mirror. I looked at me.
Pause. I was thinking: I like myself tonight.
I like who I married.
I like the people I know.
I like this time of year,
I like having a trusted babysitter,
and I like being pregnant.
Through no deserving of my own, I felt my own.
Play. In the dark theater I sat in my seat. I sat next to the man I married. On my other side was a kind friend who sat next to the kind man she married. My brother came on the stage. I love to watch him on the stage. He has so much energy. He is so talented.
I felt another tickle.
I decided: tonight I feel blessed.
I am calling it an official tickle.
Pause. It is suddenly real.