She grows round, a slow trans- figuration. Some days it seems she has always been waiting; sometimes the immanence bewilders her. The hidden confounds her, its stillness terrible, its movements swift and sudden, joy dancing on her inmost nerves. She waits to see him at last, hold him, take him in her hands, receive him. Present now, he will then be visible, glorious to behold, his voice a clarion heard by all. She waits. One day he will be here, warm and breathing, sweet and strangely small.
Kate Bluett is the wife of J.R. and the mother of Joseph. She writes, for the most part, while they are asleep. She is also a graduate of the University of Dallas, 2001 and 2006. And she lives in a city with the odd name of The Colony, Texas.