Jesse 8

Excerpts from Jesse’s written journal:

Day:
Month:
Season:

I feel like a water balloon has expanded within me and
I’m going to pop. I am full with child and I have
never had such odd cravings or emotions. Poor Janus
has had to cater to my many musings and walks on
eggshells through all of my emotions. It has been
months since we have openly shown each other our
emotions and our love and I am still at odds with the
swirling emotions that I have. I don’t know if it is
simply because I am pregnant or because of the time I
spent with my emotions in repression. All those years
could not have been good.

Anyway…Janus has had to do so many things. He wakes
late in the night with me when I crave the oddest of
food combinations. Who would have thought that Butter
Pecan ice-cream tastes spectacular with Chicken
Alfredo? He runs to the kitchens and rustles up
anything I ever ask for. He is the perfect husband in
every sense of the word.

Many late nights have been spent holding heat packs to
my stomach when it felt like the baby was trying to
rip its way through me. The mood swings he has had to
put up with break my heart, but there is nothing I can
do. I grow angry for no reason, or I weep at the
simplest or things. He has stood by me and shown such
resilience. I am so happy to have him by me. I don’t
think I could do this with out him.

Boy Name: Carl Anthony O’Ciardha
Girl Name: Summer Dawn O’Ciardha

-Jesse

Summer's Journal: Forty-Fifth Entry

My father has been known to tell stories of people other then himself. He prefers to never have spoken words about him, mainly because he doesn’t think he’s as great as all who love him sees him.

I have seen my father enter a rave, blend in, and convince everyone he is one of them. As have I seen my father enter a political party, and convince someone he was the Duke of some imaginary country, or leader of a huge company.

Over the time he has been alive, he has mastered many languages, thousands of idiosyncrasies, every social standing, and every chaste.

You should see the man garden.

He doesn’t.

He woke up this morning, put on overalls and a plaid shirt. He went outside and began to dig. Black Roses, Black Lotuses, Black Dahlias, and Black Morning-Glories all need to be planted in ground that is blighted, dead, sandy or hard. They do not grow in anything else. The only part of the grounds that are green are by the waterfall, and that’s just Mom and Dad’s favorite place to be.

But what woke me was his slamming the shovel into the hot, dead ground.

I got up, got dressed, and went outside, and I sat in the shade. He looked at me, and laughed, “So Summer Dawn, come to help your dad garden?” I shook my head no. “Come now, why not?”

“Remember the last time I touched one of your plants?” “Oh! That’s right… You killed it because you were frustrated… Well, at least sit out here and keep my company.” “I had planed on it.”

He was doing it the hard way. He wasn’t using his full strength. I leaned back, and I was joined by Giorgio. Giorgio is our housekeeper/groundskeeper. He knows everything. He doesn’t care. We pay him well, he doesn’t tell anyone.

“He trying to garden this place again?” Giorgio asked in his thick accent. “Yes.” He laughed, and sat down.

“I can’t let Giorgio do all the work around here can I?” Watching my father try to do the upkeep on the plants was amusing. He would get frustrated, like I had, then he would grab them, get a handful of thorn, and roar and then rip one out.

He then would tenderly re-root and replant the bush. Overall, it was a long day, but Giorgio, my father, and myself all got to talk about nonsensical stuff, its not normal for my father and I to discuss what type of bird makes a better sound. Or for Giorgio to join in on one of father and I’s religious debates. Usually Giorgio just kind of does his work, and never talks with us.

Oh well, I’m going to call Chris.

-Dawn

(Sorry about not posting in so long, AND sorry that this is it, I need to get back into the groove.)