constellations of untold histories

I have found myself, recently, lingering on the pause following, “You’re so lucky.” Would I be lying, or acquiescing, in a cordial nod and smile of agreement? The woman at the grocery store/in the hot springs/at the concierge desk has just lit up with the reception of the news that I’m expecting a baby girl, knowing that my first child is a boy: “One of each! Aren’t you lucky!” What she, of course, is not aware of, is the the 7-months of failed pregnancies preceding this one. She doesn’t know that this little female form came down life’s train track, only after jumping the crossing where in an alternate rail map, I had two baby boys. So when she hints of the suspenseful space where mystery is conceived – in one’s favor or not – I rather think of the dark corners of that room that I so thoroughly explored, with groping hands. Its makes me think of all the profound wells of trial overlooked in first presuming glances and expressions of cordiality at the communal meeting and greeting spots; how much we may discount, or neglect to connect, in the untold history of others. It doesn’t bother me. It just lingers with me. Yet if luck is truly just something to do with the stars, then perhaps, she is correct; this is my fortunate present place in the constellation. And likewise, if luck’s only having something to do with gratitude (as it might be in my faith to suspect), then there would be nothing dishonest in my nod of acceptance of this, albeit eventual, blessing. I supposed I started off this paragraph wanting to explore the pause, but rather, maybe have made peace with it; Likely the most fortunate conclusion of all explorations.

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