I've decided it would be amusing to write a post whilst in a mental state that finds me with a 5-10 memory span (my dear cousin who is patiently hanging around in an attempt to visit me this week claims I am acting like one who has smoked a lot of pot). This weekend I worked for 19 hours, did 2 hours of ridiculously concentrated school work and slept for 4 hours. Just for the statistical record. At my hospital placement this week I saw a lot of women with a lot of c-section wounds and a lot of empty arms. Emptiness in such a strange place. I suppose these things come and go in waves. Or so says the hospital staff. I'll be home in less than 2 months. Such a strange idea - I am caught between settling in deeply and comfortably, and the jarring notion that the home I love - the one that feels like it is so far away as to be lost forever - is really right there waiting for me. You know why I love being small? Because, every once in awhile you can still recapture that priceless feeling of security you had as a child - you know - the one where you are completley bundled up and held by someone as you fall asleep. That feeling that produces the look of utter serenity I envy in the newly-born, wholly-loved babies. My housemate/friend just came back from a birth this morning - to hold a body while it still somewhat un-born and yet, already a whole-person; alive and well. The utter complexity and amazement of it is still on her face as she sorts out the mundanities of life that unravelled in her absence. And this is how the days pass, in a happy, fascinating, confusing blur.