learning to be weary

This week has been nothing very profound.

Driving interminable times across town (home-hospital-clinic-random houses of the child-bearing-repeat) I have reached some very trite conclusions:

I really like roundabouts, negotiated with one hand on the steering

I really do not like rooms in houses that are still and quiet because no-one ever goes in there

And I am learning - What the curve of a spine feels like - curled every which way beneath secretive folds of skin and liquid

That, eventually everyone unfolds the corner of their quietly remarkable self. And if you are there to see it as they breath newly-expanded-love over 3500g of recombinated genes, then you are a priveliged human indeed.

. . . and I'm learning to be weary because even that, can, every so often, catch you a glimpse of something profound