Cleaning the Study

If I stare at the pair of gecko eggs tucked into the luggage tag that hung from a cabinet pull in my study if I stare long enough they’ll hatch perhaps I’ll even think of something to say something other than bon voyage or safe travels but I confess earlier I pictured tossing them into the fishpond to see if the bright koi of morning would reach up for these little pearls what a journey that would be for the little twins as fond as geckos as I most certainly am not for all their defecations from great heights all through the house I do admire their tenacity and when it comes to these eggs their ingenious nesting places imagine if you will the pregnant creature secreting herself behind the little plastic window where the name tag is inserted to lay between the layers—there were two name bearing rectangles there after all—mine and my deceased wife’s inserted more than three years ago because that’s how long it’s been—since she went anywhere or in a way everywhere—and then disgorged if that doesn’t sound too gross a way of saying it how does a gecko give birth quietly furtively defying gravity deftly neatly turning a luggage tag with rather nice Hawaiian or tropical design of monstera leaf on red background into a birth site two small packages of life if I allow it I can feel the power and responsibility gaining the upper hand as I write as I stare again knowing if I stare long enough these eggs will break open and new life will emerge blinking into a world without boundaries a world where even the rules are bare and pocketless quite bereft of any sort of baggage