There Was a Second

There was a second – just a nanosecond, really, the briefest of time when I wanted a baby. It started quietly enough, if a nanosecond has enough time to even have a start. I was ambushed by a commercial the other night. Stuck in an office with a tiny 12″ television, I was hunched over, head propped up on elbows, watching the same ‘Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer‘ I did as a child. During the commericals I reminisced about HomeHome. Growing ever nostalgic, I could picture the tree, needles on the floor, crisp smell of pine. The generations old handmade ornaments, colorful soldiers at attention, sequined, glittery ice skates, twinkling white lights. Chunky stockings filled with nuts, oranges and batteries. I had the cat, you the reindeer. Tinsel draped over the cat’s head with mischievious giggles. Tie a ribbon around her neck, it’s Christmastime. The Merrymen singing about Christmas in their Caribbean land and little drummer boys. White packages drawn up with red string. Something to open on Christmas Eve. Watching the horses, waiting for a hint of sunrise. Coffeecake wrapped in foil on the corner of the woodstove, gently warming in time for breakfast. The smell of coffee and hot chocolate in the air. Start the generator so we can turn on the lights. I was picturing it all, getting lost in the memories of Christmas on a snowy, distant island. I wanted to go home. Could I be there in time for Santa? Suddenly completely ripe with nostalgia I heard ‘Silent Night’ by Josef Muhr and Franz Gruber (my favorite holiday hymn). I looked up in time to see peaceful, sleeping babies but instead of seeing them as a shameless plug for diaper products, I saw a lost future. My father’s nose, my mother’s eyes, my husband’s lips, my hands. Tradition handed down in a family trait. Lost forevermore.