Can I call a lifelong yearning a new endeavor? I can if that yearning started as a whisper from the breath of dozens of babies who found refuge in my childhood home. I can if only now it speaks loud, calling me to take sure steps towards its fulfillment. The nudges to hear came from the newborns: my siblings, the foster babies, the baby room at the daycare, the infant orphans, my own suckling babes, and now the tiny people borne by the women close to me.
The voice spoke too many words to shrug away. Where’re ya’ at, oh notebook? I can hear you calling out. Blank. Barren. My fingers grazed over the spines on the shelf of waiting pages. There! This one! This notebook is perfect!
See the bunny? See the word “little”? What better place to write my birth stories? The pages are already filling up. These words speak of the new endeavor. What is it? Patience. You’ll soon know.