I replied with banter, "it would be weird to be in your belly. You didn't eat it or anything, did you?" I stopped the banter and continued: "No. In all seriousness, I think the word you are looking for is 'special.' It is special that you have a little life inside your belly."
Later, we had migrated to talking about her seeing one of her old friends all grown up and not a fuckup like he was in his youth. Again, she used the word "weird" to describe it and I corrected her, "I think the word you are looking for is 'special.' It is special when all those boys grow up into men and the cycle continues."
She caught my return to the word and my reiteration of the theme. "What is with you and that word right now?"
That is my way of appreciating things. Instead of simply noting these phenomenons of growth and rebirth cycling into history, I want to hold onto them-- to love them.
A few minutes passed quietly and mom came out of the shower and hopped into bed. She curled up near her babies, content as only a mother can be and she said, "thanks, you two. Tonight has been a really special night."
"Yeah," I replied. "Special is exactly the word I would use to describe it."
And then my sister punched me.
I don't know what drew me to the word "special" initially. Why did I say that? In retrospect I can only say that it was for that moment when my mom said it. Was I planning it? No. Was it perfect for her to say? Yes. The thoughts I was trying to communicate to my sister were that much more effective thanks to my mother accidentally backing them up. I guess what I want to say is that this is another "special" mystery of life. It is magic. It is coincidence. It is providence. It is living in the moment and letting that moment guide your actions-- and in turn being justified by that moment. Knowing that once and for all, no matter what else, you have a purpose.