Finally Finished..."The Past Re-Visited"

“i’ve been reprimanded about writing about the past and there’s merit to that argument, especially when it comes to me writing about things i would change if i could go back in time. the fact is i can’t, so penning how i would do this or wouldn’t do that is kind of an act of absurdity; my life to this point has been what i’ve made of it (no comments please) and there aren’t many things i would “fix” if given the opportunity. notice i said “aren’t many things” and not “isn’t anything”: there is something i think about not having done before now and i imagine if i had done that thing it would have gone something like this…

“we were actually making love, without protection as always, when we made the decision. usually we practiced our preferred, well, regular method of birth control which consisted of me pulling out right before i spilled my seed in her, and then both of us praying feverishly for a minus sign, or no pink, or whatever the result of a negative pregnancy was for that particular brand of test i would have her taking after a couple of days. don’t get me wrong; i wanted kids, always had, and that wasn’t a secret to anyone. truth is, anyone who had even spent one second discussing the subject with me knew where my head was at when it came to me having a family one day. i wanted the “white picket fence” though i’d never dreamed of an actual white picket fence, but the wife and the kids were definitely there in the image i’d pictured for my life. i’d always imagined myself the head of a household and together we were a “norman rockwell” painting: only with black people. we just had never taken the idea past the hypotheticals: the “what-if’s” and such; where we thought of first and middle names that we liked with “wilson” but never really anything more significant than that. “how smart would it be?” “very.” “would i prefer a boy or a girl?” “a healthy baby, its gender didn’t matter.” but she and i hadn’t actually discussed any serious plans towards starting a family of our own before. see, she already had kids and they already had names that weren’t “wilson”. she had already gone through the morning sickness and the swollen feet, plus a labor that she had been forced to endure by herself. yet she wanted more; and equally as important, at least in my eyes, was what she’d determined one thing from our time with one another: that she didn’t just want to have more kids, she wanted to carry my offspring. let me write that again because i think the last sentence bears repeating: “she’d determined one thing from our time with one another: that she didn’t just want to have more kids, she wanted to carry my offspring.” not because it would be “a baby genius”; as she had called our child in past conversations, or that she figured a kid born of she and i would be a kid spawned by a brilliant father and an equally gifted mother would be born exceptional; but because it would be two-halves of a love that couldn’t be defined with words: the personification of a connection between friends, who had become lovers, and then partners as parents.

if i did the math i’m sure i could have determined our child had been conceived sometime during an act of coitus where i had ejaculated in her sometime between her second and third orgasms; not that her climaxing multiple times was a rare feat when it came to our lovemaking, but intimate encounters between us usually were marathon sessions, only ended one of us passed out from exhaustion. so not having lasted as long as i normally would have made that night especially memorable. i’ll never forget the feel of being inside of her: she radiated such a heat as i moved in and out of her that it felt like we were on fire; and us ablaze meant i wasn’t going to be setting any endurance records that time. her first orgasm came fairly quickly, less than two minutes into it, she was spasming; screaming out the filthiest obscenities at the bedroom walls until her orgasm began to subside and she returned to licking my ear and kissing my neck. the second one, about sixty seconds later, before the first had reached its conclusion due to my continued stimulation of her body. somehow she managed to force out an “i love you” as she exploded for the second time; and then no words came out, though her mouth remained agape. my assault on her womanhood persisting until i told her i couldn’t hold on much longer and she nodded expectantly; and in a moment of shared eye contact we both knew we were on the verge of taking our relationship to a level far beyond what we had enjoyed to that point; and were perfectly fine with it. then she placed her hands on my ass, pulling me deeper inside of her and i erupted into the depths of her. and it was done; the wheels of both of us getting what we wanted had been set in motion.

our daughter wasn’t born on a particularly significant day, or at a particularly significant time; in fact, the only thing that made her birth significant at all was that she was mine…and hers…and being a child born to us made her truly significant.”

like i said earlier, i can’t go back and change the past but when i think about the one thing i would go back and do differently, this is what i think about.”

sometime around the end of '11. just finished today. i think.