zemblanity
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In the literary world, what we call Zemblanity is a dead word, & a useless one, one we would not like to experience.
zem - blan - i - ty.
Antonyms: serendipity.
The inexorible discovery of what we don't want to know.
There is no story behind why I like this word. I had liked the phrase "what an unpleasant surprise." with a curl of the lip & a slight wrinkling of my nose before I discovered this word.
When I found out my father's hobby. That was an unpleasant surprise. I was not old enough to call it zemblanity. Now that I am old enough, I dont think I would.
This is a short anecdote, with little falling action or resolution or much exposition. The climax is more beautiful if left unbothered to explain itself. It just. Is. This is just a photograph. Take from it what you will.
I was small, & I was looking for my father in the house. Our house was much larger then, because I was much smaller. I heard something. I dont remember now what this something was. I could fill it in with my adult mind & say it was groaning or sighing or squelching. No.
The basement door was slightly ajar, which is an engraved invitation for children to enter. The top stair was when I stopped & looked down upon my father.
Who was looking down upon a girl.
Who was asleep.
My child mind reasoned.
Although, people dont sleep with a foot of their digestive system exposed to amber basement air by silver instruments. My father, my father, he looked with such tenderness on this girl, as if she was sleeping. He bowed his head as if her belly was still soft & blonde-haired & faintly ticking with humanity.
The weight with which he kissed her, kissed her stomach, kissed her stomach, her stomach, not her stomach, her stomach, I have looked for a kiss like that, in silver movies & the real, soft, warm, hushed voices of others. Nothing compares to the seconds I watched. He filled his mouth with her, rolled his tongue over the greyred tissue, followed veins with his lips. Such an adoration & patience to kiss every inch of her innerds, such a captivated & natural loll of his head along with the curves of her no one else had ever touched, ever would. Such intimacy he shared with this girl. Such tearfully-close intimacy. Skin on skin on organ.
She was so quiet, kind, to let him bury himself in her.
I turned away from that scene & returned upstairs.
..... uhhh. anyway.
i cant write lately, boo. go home, nat.