Tonight

*this was written last night, but I couldn't post it until this AM because Blogger was down for a little while

Crickets chirp, and the frogs sing loudly, their voices streaming in through damp screens as the night darkens. Rain drips from the tin edging on the roof, splashing down on wet grass. The refrigerator hums.

The kitchen floor is the color of honey, the lights from the ceiling bright and crisp upon it. Our black cat lies on the floor, stretched on his side, perhaps feeling the coolness of the century old wood on his slick fur coat.

There is a pan on the stovetop, with olive oil coagulating on it, salt and pepper mixed in, and a spatula lying on top of that. Soon, I will run warm water into the white sink, and squirt yellow soap in, and watch the bubbles form. I will wash the pan, and dry it on the blue towel that hangs on the stove, and replace it into the cupboard.

I can see the breadboard, with three colors of wood, and the bag that holds the bread that Greg baked yesterday afternoon when it was so hot. He ran the fan, blowing from the 550 degree oven straight out the door, so that we would not make the house hotter than it already was.

Upstairs, Liam sleeps, and I can hear Greg singing quietly to Aoife. They are in the rocking chair together, he having taken over the routine that was once mine. They are happy together.

Night is falling on my home, and everything is peaceful here. My day was fine, and probably tomorrow will be, too.

Meanwhile, halfway across the country, there is a family that has just been blasted apart. Just a few years ago, their daughter, Elysium, died just before birth from a cord accident. This Mother's Day, my friend discovered that she was pregnant again, for the fourth time. After the initial ultrasound showed some anomalies, they pursued further testing and were recently given a fatal diagnosis for their little boy: Trisomy 18. It is unlikely that their son will make it to term; if he does, he will die shortly after birth.

So while the crickets hum, and frogsong fills my ears on this warm summer evening, I am surrounded by the ordinariness of my babylost life, where my life has slowly pieced itself back into something that I call normal, where happiness dominates and peace prevails. And somewhere in the midwest, this family is blinded by the light of the freight train charging haphazardly towards them at a thousand miles an hour, and they cannot stop it from coming.

My heart feels so heavy for them.