Zygote Love

I am a zygote. I was conceived only a few seconds ago, formed by the union of a sperm and an egg. I am the very beginning of a baby. I will exist for only a few minutes, until I divide. Then I will be no more.

I know this because at this moment I know all – I have the perfect knowledge of my mother, my father, my god, my universe. It is the instant where my soul marries my cells. After I divide I will know nothing,  I will only exist, suckling the bounty of my mother’s womb.

 I know that my mother is a woman of passion, she cannot resist the touch of a man. She longs for it when it is not present, begs for it when it is not offered, hopes for it when it is not possible. She is smart enough to know how to operate the punch press at the auto factory, naïve enough to expect every man to supply the condoms.

 My father doesn’t carry condoms. It’s bareback or nothing. He is ignorant and arrogant and a fool. I happen to know he will die of AIDs. But he will not infect my mother.

 He got A’s and B’s in high school, but drank and smoked his way out of college after one semester. By the time his head cleared, his parents’ money had dried up and he was too old for the army. He will spend every day until he dies working for rent money and trying to get laid.

 My mother will always remember him, she will see in her mind his dark, full hair and his blue eyes; she will remember the sweat and the taste of him. But that is all, as she will strive to forget all else.

 He will not remember her past the next evening, when he meets the woman who will kill him with her love.

 I will not remember either of them. As a baby I would meet them as if for the first time, nine months from now. I would drink in their love and love them in return, because they made me. I would be dispossessed of this perfect knowledge and would have to learn all that I need to know, one hard-earned lesson at a time. I would be the still pond, waiting for the pebbles to ripple me.

 My mother will never know of my awareness. She will never know that I knew her for these few minutes, as I course my way to a warm and nourishing home, where I will wait to be sucked away. She will never know that, for this brief moment, I love her as I would have loved her forever, and I long to tell her. And she will never know that, even after I divide, and my perfect knowledge dissipates into the ether, my love will remain, forever touching her after I am gone.

 

Appeared in Lunarosity which is no longer archived

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