Wednesday, December 15  

Ordinary

The day Vic gave birth to the little bundle of wriggling limbs that immediately asserted a stronger authority over her than any living being had been capable of previously, hurtling into existence not just a small person but a whole life situation so out of the ordinary that anyone would have laughed to think it a year before, was the day Vic transitioned into an ordinary person.

ordinary: adj 1.Commonly encountered; usual. 2.Of no exceptional ability, degree, or quality; average. 3.Of inferior quality; second-rate. 4.Having immediate rather than delegated jurisdiction, as a judge.

To become ordinary is to be found acceptable and right by the general populace. No matter what strangeness Vic may have harboured before becoming ordinary, she joined a greater clique (indeed became a favoured member as her belly grew) of the commonly shared experience. She enjoyed the benefits of her new station, became more confident and outgoing, assured of her place in the ordinary world.

Of course there were, and still are, pangs of doubt when she surveys the growing ordinariness around her. Her apartment becoming cluttered with miniature furniture in primary colours. Her skin beginning to show age, starting around her eyes to look older in that way specially reserved for mothers. Her sex life stalling, now quiet and remote as her fatigue battles Jon's desire for rights to her sleepy body.

It is painful to become ordinary. It is sad. But, at the same time, it is a great relief.

The authoritative bundle of limbs is named Grace with a nod to whatever stroke of fate, luck, destiny, what have you, that brought her into being. At five months old, Vic is able to see beyond the little body and toward the person she is becoming. Grace becomes Vic's daily project, most interesting play thing, most loved possession (while, yes, we know children aren't possessions at all). Grace shows Vic that ordinary is not just the world's median. It is also a place of extremes.