Moon River, wider than a mile
I’m crossing you in style some day
You dream maker
Wherever you’re going
I’m going your wayTwo drifters off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see
We’re after the same rainbow’s end
Waitin’ round the bend
My Huckleberry friend
Moon River and me
My dad used to sing Moon River to me and my sister before bed. Whether I loved it because it resonated with an inherent wanderlust or because it instilled wanderlust in me, I’m not sure.
Stressed, sad, stuck, afraid — I’ve soothed myself through many of the hard parts of life by humming it and watching the images I conjured as a 5 year old play before my eyes again, line by line.
I sat in the hospital 26 hours after giving birth to my son, holding him to my chest while I waited for E and my mom to get the carseat for discharge. As I rocked him, I thought about the disappointment that came with a long labor and disrupted birth.
We had everything set to have our baby at home. I wanted to enjoy our own peaceful setting in our own space for the transition. Instead, we went through all the stressful parts at home and left it a place of tension, heading for the hospital due to labor complications. The staff used medical intervention to deliver our baby, and I experienced the next day in the confines of a hospital room, on their schedule, being indoctrinated in their wise but narrow instruction.
I began to sing Moon River to the baby, for myself and for him.
As the line “Wherever you’re going, I’m going your way” left my lips, the narrator’s sweet abandon and surrender twirled its way into the center of my heart in a fresh, new way. It’s like, OK world, I get it now.
We jump onto the river over and over again. A Relationship, a pursuit of God or a spirit, a risk, a life change, life itself. When we take the plunge, we dream of outcomes, but we have no control. Complete release allows us to enjoy the twists and turns of opportunity and the deepest richness that can only happen in unplanned, unexpected moments. We can’t mess these pockets of time up because we don’t have the chance to plan or schedule anything. They’re a gift.
I didn’t have my child at home. The delivery was a ruckus. However, the room was filled with fifteen cheering people when he finally arrived.
While I don’t put everything into astrology, I do believe the stars we’re born under are powerful. My child’s stars were interfered with against my hopes. Now, though, they are the result of an entire community of CNAs, Midwives, Nurses, Doctors, my mom, best friend, and partner coming together to bring him into the world. The intimacy and power of that moment still explode off my chest like a tidal wave.
It wasn’t what I expected, and I don’t know where we’re going next. All I know now is I want to be with you, wherever the path leads.