Pregnant

I have been pregnant twice before. Max my oldest was near forty-five with a great love for adventure and travel. Thinking of his namesake I chuckled, and without wishing the old kahuna for whom my son was named appeared.

"Ageless Ehu-hair," I said, unsure of his permanence I simply enjoyed the wavy view of the man who has been protector, translator and so much more. The steam from the pot of chicken stew bubbled coating the winds with a blurry vapor.

"It's the smell of the rosemary, gets me every time!" Max lifted the lid and drew in an appreciative swallow of the aroma. "Nearly pau?" With the question, the tall red-haired traveler set more solidly. The wool bowler hat. Its familiar designs of sea urchins and curling waves. Skin as deep as mahogany, and hair the color of fresh lava fell in a braid down the middle of his back. Re-positioning the lid, my godfather faced me with his hands outstretched to hold my face. Greeting in the old way, we welcomed each other.

"And," when we finally released one another, I laughed in answer to the question about the food, "the stew is good enough to eat." His smile as big as bowls dissolved any of my discomfort.Word travels quickly. It was not yet a full ten risings of the moon. It comforted me to know family was interested in my pregnancy. Max's visits always came with purpose. "It is not that we worry about you, Pale Wawae," Max considered my long-standing reputation for being independent. He weighed his words, admitting it had been almost twenty years since his last visit. Evolution was a slow process, and he knew my predispositions. Still ... he was on my side and continued this way:

"You are hapai with a child of magic and a third pregnancy will..." Max chose his remaining words carefully as he sat in the wooden chair facing me across from the small glass-topped table. "A third pregnancy will build quite a bridge." To draw a picture, the kahuna used his ten long fingers to make a grid, lacing them like a woven mat.

"Over, under, over, under," his deep voice chanted simply.
"Nothing different, nothing new"
"Over, under, over, under." Max flipped his hands over and tugged them apart.. They separated easily.

"Now let's do this together," he said and reached for my hand. I offered him the right, "No, the other one," asking for the left hand.

My fingers are slender and tapered, but not nearly three-quarters are long as Max's. Like teaching a child, Max inter-twined our fingers. The thumbs barely involved, but essential. Reading my thoughts he said, "Oh yes, the thumbs are always involved. It's they that make all the difference," Awkward though the lattice was when we were done the spaces and the lacing created a beautiful mat.

"Pull apart," he instructed. I did as told. Nothing. I caught his gaze, aware that the lesson was being cooked into me. I relaxed and our fingers fell naturally apart.

"There is room for the unpredictable. Gene pools broaden now just as they have since the voyaging canoes crossed oceans in search of new land. It is not uncommon for the Magic Ones to mate with common, or uncommon mortals." I was not quite 'common' though the label was something I had yearned for at different times through my life. Max continued, "Try as they did, the mothers' mysteries eventually trickle down to us. Some secrets were uncovered in spite of their best efforts to conceal. Now, you, Pale Wawae, are to bear a child of Raven. What is necessary to know?" Over bowls of chicken soup and egg noodles my godfather answered.


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