The soldier is the mother, a mother to her first child. Sailor is the child, a boy and a toddler. Soldier has a monologue with him throughout the book. Soldier is sleep-deprived, depressed, lost, and feels like the worst mother ever. Her marriage is falling apart; she is distressed by the inequality between her and her husband in the care of this child. She no longer knows who she is. And at the same time, she loves this child with all her heart and all her body. It’s a raw account of motherhood, deeply sincere but alarming. I’m glad I had children before reading this book.
“How are you?” my friend asked then, and not in a casual way, not as a variation of hello but as a considered enquiry into my well-being inviting a considered response. His manner of emphasising certain words: How are you? It was such a lovely way he had, that ability of his to compress fondness into his voice. Some people have these qualities. Be one of them, Sailor. Have I told you this before? It bears repeating.
“How are you?” I could feel his eyes on me.
I am tired. I am lonely. I have found myself mired in resentment in this new life, become a person I don’t wish to be, feeling constant guilt for not feeling constant gratitude for the blessing that is my child. I do feel constant gratitude: I adore my child. But I am tired. I am lonely. I am lost.
“Ah, you know”, I shrugged. “How about you?”
He shrugged back. “Same.”
Listened to as an audiobook