bunnies and wolves

Last night, we drained a bottle of cellared Pinot Noir as we sat out late, enveloped by the cool evening air, in the bursting beauty of the backyard garden. It seems that the garden transitioned into summer mode overnight. The hops have stretched their fierce, sticky tendrils to the roof-line and the sage has overgrown the path. The lovage grows, stately and unfurled like a tall, broad fan.

We continued our conversation of the previous evening. I felt like a mad woman, my mind racing back and forth between "yes" and "no" without pause. M remained staid, solid, and calm considering he was no doubt just as paralyzed by the indecision of the moment. We joked that such is the fate of two INFPs, eternally analyzing, yet deferring any final conclusions until the last word has been spoken.

We discussed which sort of human we'd prefer, male or female. I said in my secret heart, I would be disappointed with a boy. I am a daughter and I know the business of being a daughter. I thought of my friend B and her strangely silent boy and madly chatty daughter. She knows her boy only through the rare glimpses he offers, but she knows each passing thought that streams through her daughter's child mind.

But even as I said it, a certain sorrow settled in, and I reflected on the difficultly of raising a strong, proud, confident woman in a world determined to destroy her. "Girls are like bunnies and boys are like wolves," I said. "Like prey and predator." I imagined becoming a nervous wreck of a mother to a little girl. I concentrated on how I might instill just the proper amount of fear -that healthy fear that every woman must live with or risk dying -without scaring her utterly. How would I teach her that she is in truth as vulnerable as a rabbit, without turning her into a weak, skitterish, and tentative creature?

On the other hand, how does one raise a boy surrounded by a society determined to make a wolf out of him. How would I deal with the tough, mean language of hate and superiority that boys take on from time to time? How would I take him down a notch, return him to gentleness and kindness, without destroying the pride that he will surely need to scrape together a living in a competitive man-eating world? Is it possible to be a nice wolf?

I have to conclude my angst-ridden meditation early. My friend B has come over this morning to comfort me and, more likely, to distract me from my concerns. We are puttering about in the garden and enjoying the cool of the morning hours. Until later...