https://www.angelfire.com/empire/maedison/index.html
melindaedison@hotmail.com
Olivia~Day Three
I suspected something like this.
Sterling came home yesterday afternoon and I asked him if he would call Olivia. I told him, “All of the girls go ape-shit over your voice, maybe Livi will too.”
“So now I am part of your experiment in healing?” he laughed. “Sure. I’ll do it…if I must.”
We walked to the archway leading to the dining room. Liv is in the corner. Sterling calls her. Nothing. He tries again. All of a sudden she barks! Ha! Her first bark. Then she runs pell-mell straight at him and bounces off his legs and rolls into a ball. We are laughing so hard.
“I think she needs glasses.”
Sterling says, “Glasses? I think she needs a brain.”
I just think Olivia is insecure.
“Women are insecure.” I would fight any man who said that. I would argue, “No we are NOT!”
But right now I am thinking YES, YES we are insecure. We were made that way otherwise we would not open ourselves to men. We would not take them inside. We would not be willing to propagate the species. If we were totally secure why would we need men? It seems to me that our insecurity will stay with us no matter what we accomplish, it is our nature. There will always be a thread of anxiety and restlessness and fear.
Perhaps as women make more money, run more households, and start to regard artificial insemination as the perfect way to create a child, we may change, adapt, become. Our insecurity will turn out to be as useful as an appendix. But for now, we need men. We need their seed. We need to have them adore us and love us and make us feel treasured. We still need our gods.
Wait. I am wrong. It is not insecurity that courses through a females veins, it is uncertainty. We need someone to reinforce what is certain.
Nevermind. I am not explaining this correctly.
Later in the day Livi actually comes to me when I call her. Actually she comes within two feet of me, and then she stops like I have a Superman invisible shield around me. I call her again and she comes right up to my feet. I can see she has wet herself again. She is trembling. I am petting her. I am talking to her.
I scoop her up into my arms and take her outside on the deck. We spend three hours glued together under a brilliant sun.
Our only amusement was a goofy squirrel trying to whack a walnut through the Plexiglas bird-feeder window. Olivia doesn’t look straight on at the squirrel. She just tracks the action in a side-glance.
The only time Olivia changes positions is when I move her around. She is frozen.
