Carbon is the backbone of all life on earth. One little element, capable of hooking itself up with a small group of other heavy-hitters, in millions of combinations that result in living organisms. I cracked open my science text yesterday and started studying saturated hydrocarbons, when I got a text message.
My cousin, Melissa, had given birth to her first child, a darling and perfect little boy, pink-faced, squinting, and still smeared with just a touch of vernix. An email was sent shortly following with the pictures, and I got all teary-eyed, remembering moments, four times over, when new life was placed in my arms, and I thought to myself, 'I did this?' No doubt of the power of the electron bonding between new mother and child. Strong as steel. I mean, carbon.
Only hours later I received a call that someone very, very dear to me had been admitted to the hospital after a nearly-successful suicide attempt. My world started spinning. My heart started pounding. Tears streamed forth, vastly different tears. One carbon-based organism trying fervently to reach across state lines through heart strings to bond with another carbon-based organism who desperately needs a positive charge.
My soul alternates between celebration and mourning. Between life and the threat of death.
This is hard. So hard.
New life fizzing over. Tired life gone flat.
How do I re-carbonate a flat life?
Something about those bonds. . .covalent bonds, where electrons are shared, not given up. I have to somehow share this burden and in doing so, offer something where there is currently not enough.
My electrons, all of them, are hers for the taking.