Waiting For The World To Change

On this night, 20 years ago, I waited for the world to change. I remember: Walls painted blue with pink stenciled rabbits running in a row; curtains--white trimmed with blue; the hand-me-down wooden crib--decorated in pink and blue bunny motif--pushed against one wall with fabric balloons gathered over it; a brand new changing table tucked into a corner--a diaper bag, again with bunnies, hooked to it; itsy-bitsy diapers stacked tight and hypoallergenic wipes still sealed. Mostly I remember the wide-bottomed chair, upholstered in soft blue. On many nights as summer slid into fall, that chair begged me to sit and swivel for a moment--to daydream of a belly flat and arms full. And so, on this night, I sat and swiveled as half-hearted twinges began to find their rhythm. Impatient, I pried my awkward self loose from my reverie. Big Guy called the doctor. We grabbed our stuff, filled the cat's food bowl and left. We traveled the sleepy midnight highway. Late night slipped seamlessly into wee morning hours. And my world--our world--began to change. In room five. A bunny free zone.