*An amazing picture Jesse drew of his family, putting them in two pairs.
By Kendra Lubalin
Sadie is wrapped around my leg, her surprisingly strong thighs and arms tightly squeezing her body to mine, attached. She says “I don’t know why I ever stopped nursing! If I hadn’t I could still suck on your boobs every day!” She is six years old, but her face is pressed to my calf so tightly, her yearning voice so authentically in pain, that I can’t laugh.
She wants to be so close that she doesn’t know how to get there. It’s an impossible amount of closeness to achieve. She wants my membranes to be permeable so she can swim inside me, she wants to pass though me like a ghost, but solid and warm – blood mixing with blood, breath with breath, heartbeat with heartbeat. If she could crawl back inside the womb I’m still not sure she could satiate the desire she has to own me, to make me hers. She whispers to me that she will put a window into my stomach, so she can live in there and still see her friends.
Straddling my lap she grabs my face in her hands and goes eye to eye, foreheads touching.
“You are mine. Only mine.” Continue Reading…