Around the end of the last century I decided to divide my heart in half and share it with a really important person. He gave it back to me whole and then some. I've never understood the finer points of the "hard sciences" - some say it has something to do with chemistry or some such. Perhaps mitosis? That's biology. And it rhymes with halitosis, so I reject it. Olivia Newton John said something about physics once, didn't she? I was distracted by the headband, can't remember. But this greatly nuanced and highly developed scientific investigation proves one thing to me: it's a phenomenon that isn't necessarily codified or quantifiable.
Just to test this theorem, we took our combined hearts and split them open again almost eight years ago and then there was this very small, delightfully distracting and demanding person in our home, all up under our skin. The hearts involved never healed properly because there was so much extra material packed into and around them - like booby trapped overstuffed chairs. Once we grew accustomed to our enlarged chest cavities, we three decided to pool our resources and make room for one more. It seemed my daughter had an endless supply - just stuffed in that little body like a clown car - we stood back in amazement as her heart poured out and out and out. Not to be outdone, we did the same.
Now there's this whole big mess of hearts under our roof. Sometimes we step on it and have to back up slowly, apologizing. Sometimes someone loses theirs and someone else steps up and shares a bit of theirs until the first someone gets it back together. Sometimes we stretch that rubbery, sticky mess as far as it will go in four directions so we can have our own bits for a while. Sometimes there are intruders. People who would want to come and meddle around in that. Sometimes we let them visit for a while. Sometimes they are unwelcome. Sometimes I wonder how we all got in this mess to begin with. Sometimes I wonder how exactly it all works. Sometimes I wonder if this is how it works for everyone. Sometimes I wonder if at some point the whole mess untangles. Most of the time I don't really care. I don't know the answers to any of these wonders why.
What I do know is that when I tell them I love them with all of my heart, it's a blessedly messy business.
Just to test this theorem, we took our combined hearts and split them open again almost eight years ago and then there was this very small, delightfully distracting and demanding person in our home, all up under our skin. The hearts involved never healed properly because there was so much extra material packed into and around them - like booby trapped overstuffed chairs. Once we grew accustomed to our enlarged chest cavities, we three decided to pool our resources and make room for one more. It seemed my daughter had an endless supply - just stuffed in that little body like a clown car - we stood back in amazement as her heart poured out and out and out. Not to be outdone, we did the same.
Now there's this whole big mess of hearts under our roof. Sometimes we step on it and have to back up slowly, apologizing. Sometimes someone loses theirs and someone else steps up and shares a bit of theirs until the first someone gets it back together. Sometimes we stretch that rubbery, sticky mess as far as it will go in four directions so we can have our own bits for a while. Sometimes there are intruders. People who would want to come and meddle around in that. Sometimes we let them visit for a while. Sometimes they are unwelcome. Sometimes I wonder how we all got in this mess to begin with. Sometimes I wonder how exactly it all works. Sometimes I wonder if this is how it works for everyone. Sometimes I wonder if at some point the whole mess untangles. Most of the time I don't really care. I don't know the answers to any of these wonders why.
What I do know is that when I tell them I love them with all of my heart, it's a blessedly messy business.
