Be the net, not the nest, analyst advice for an attached mother.
The dream is of an icy hill we are climbing in a car driven by the older
child. But the trouble is with the younger, I tell Doctor C. Yes, and
you’re being shown by the other. I don’t make it across when I try
to jump from glacier to glacier; because I land in dangerously cold water
we must turn back. Sorry to disappoint my son. My sons. Divorce
the ex again, I am told. I think perhaps it is time to stop demanding
investigations like I am some powerless Democratic senator.
All I’ve tried to be is democratic. Power in the people. The news
was depressing, so I just stopped driving. Nesting is a constant
tending, the thing you do before the baby comes. To be a net
is to hold something and wait for the baby bird to fall into it.