The ying and yang of economics had me checking my footing in the parking lot. Iced over patches from yesterdays snow. Don't they know about rock salt. I was scared , I was going to fall or slip. I always knew that motherhood would not be easy. Mistakes, mine--- someone elses, those problems I knew how to handle. My carrying my first -to be born son was no mistake. A hurried wind blew the thin plastic of the cd bag now holding her recent purchases.

       The file laid open on his desk. He would have to attach a note to her chart on the attending physicians prescription pad.  The mid-wife would be sure to see it. He turned and looked out his window again. She was gingerly walking across the parking lot as if she were carrying the finest of crystal and china, scared of her footing.  Gingerly, did I say that he thought to himself. Not gingerly, like a huge sack of something unsure. She was topling, yet standing upright conscious of  passherby looks. A worried, frightened, secret- still held, relieved look flushed her face as she finally made it to the sidewalk. "She must be planning his sons' toddler ages in her mind", he thought, to himself as he listened, watched and occassionally glanced at the folder 

       Her voice intermixed with the music playing on his Cd player. Rhythmic lyrics timed responses to the not so latest beat and added chaotic cacophony. Herself.