I Have a Dream

Tonight I was finishing up a writing assignment in the little hole that serves as our laundry room, pantry, and home office. I am sitting on a stool, hunched over my dryer, on which the laptop we are borrowing rests when Eli comes in, clearly distressed. He wants me to come lie down in my bed with him. This is where he used to take naps before he dropped them altogether. Under normal circumstances, I would be happy to do anything that would persuade him to take a nap, but it is already 6 o'clock. I begin to tell him that it is almost dinner time, not nap time when I look at his face. His eyes are red-rimmed, big tears just brimming over. We've all been sick around here, and I suspect he is just starting with it. I pull myself away from this computer screen (imagine sucking sounds... sometimes I get a little too attached). I tuck us both into my bed and I watch him fall asleep. It doesn't take very long. The phrase, as soon as his head hit the pillow... would have been quite apropos.

I still need to finish that assignment. Dinner isn't ready. The kitchen needs some attention. I should feed the dog before she decides to jump into bed with me. But I stay and watch as feathery dark lashes float down, flutter back up. Down... and... asleep. His lips stand out red tonight, and I think that he may already be starting on a fever. The delicate criss-cross of pink veins across his eyelids and the light pink splotch of birthmark on his forehead are just visible in the lamp-light. His arms are tucked neatly, one propping up his head, the other folded across his body... just the way I like to fall asleep. 

Mary Wollstonecraft was a rabid feminist at the end of the 18th century in England. She believed that women's domestic duties were nothing but slavery. She even denounced marriage - which may not sound like too much now, but this was strong stuff for the times - until she became pregnant. She was in a relationship with William Godwin, the father of the anarchist movement, who also publicly denounced marriage. But before the baby was born they married. Mary died within days after giving birth to a daughter, Mary, who would go on to become Mary Shelley - the woman who brought us our favorite gothic monster Frankenstein (actually, Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster). But I cannot help but wonder if the militant feminist would have softened. If, like her resolve to shun marriage, her ferocious hatred of domestic duties might have eroded in the dream of family life. The dream...

I am not surprised when Eli wakes up half an hour later, moaning, flushed and clearly feverish. A few days ago I was in his position, and I know what he is suffering. I ache for him. I think of Mary Wollestonecraft. I think, hopefully (wishfully?), that if she had lived to raise a family, that she would have had the bigness of spirit to see the wonder in it.