my kryptonite

i cry every single time i see it. i'm not sure it'll matter how many more times i stand witness. i'll probably still fall to pieces. maybe i ought to rethink my longterm career path. it's just that every time i watch their matted, blood-speckled heads slowly seep between the folds, every time i watch their mothers strain and groan, every time i see the incredible love that goes into bringing each slithering, blue body into this world, i can't help but be awash in insurmountable feelings of joy, awe and incredulity. that mankind survives is a mystery to me. the beginning is such a powerful moment. as, i'm sure, is the end.
the moving image swept him away, too, but differently. i caught the excitement in his voice, his squeeze. it is such an amazing thing, my achilles' heel. maybe someday he'll be with me when it's his own. maybe someday we'll together clasp the clammy pudge of our brand-new child.
so many nice things have emerged from him in the last eighteen hours:
written:
You make me happy every night I get to lay down with
you.
and
whispered:
you are the bravest person i know.
and
...others.
watching her push and push and push and swear and push and finally hold that little baby touched a soft spot inside of him. and the result is that he makes us feel more beautiful than ever before. he makes us feel more just exactly right than ever before. he makes me want to have his baby.
someday.
but somewhere before someday i need him to learn how to say i'm sorry.
and let go.
good thing there are seven years left before i decide that my personal powerful moments are dangerously numbered.