My body did not wait until I finished the 8th glass of Gatorade and Miralax before it forced me into the bathroom and a veritable deluge exited my anus. My water broke, a baby was birthed, and flood-gates I never knew existed let all the fuck loose. This was an evacuation and exodus on a global scale. Remember when all that blood started gushing down the hotel hallway in ‘The Shining’? That was kid’s stuff.
My ass as Mt. Vesuvius. This is a role it never wanted to play.
After that initial expulsion/explosion, there was a little lull. ‘Is that all there is?’ I wondered. At such a moment, one might want to pause and take stock of one’s life. My mind went immediately to food, and all the things I wanted to eat as soon as this nightmare was over.
Andy’s carbonara – with all the butter and cream and garlic and goodness he puts into it. My Mom’s mushroom knishes – breaded and fried and buttery decadence in bite-size jewels of flavor. Suzie’s granola – she makes a mean damn batch of granola. This kimchi fried rice with a fried duck egg on top. The Dover Sole Meunière at Mistral… my eyes are practically misting at the thought of such food glorious food.
Meanwhile, the lull is almost over. I feel it, I sense it coming, I light this candle and watch it throw tears on my pillow…
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