"Here, let me do that." Unnoticed, Ed had come up behind her. Looking around at him, Kate was ruefully aware that her facial expression was almost identical to the one Julie had first presented to her. Without objection she handed him the tray and watched as Ed ran water over it until the cubes had been sufficiently reduced in size to allow the lever to function. A single movement of his muscular forearm ejected the ice. He flashed his best "aren't you glad you've got me around" smile, exposing his even white teeth. Yes, Kate's smile answered, very glad. They finished fixing the drinks and then joined their children in the family room. Kate viewed the room skeptically. Popped corn, which had managed to elude someone's mouth, was scattered in a random pattern on the braided area rug. Tiny brown circles marked the table top, the signature of liquid refreshment. But it turned out to be a pleasant evening, thought Kate. Well worth the mess, and she stooped to pick up the glasses. "Here, let me do that. Why don't you sit down and relax?" Ed suggested. "I'll put the girls to bed." It was a thoughtful gesture, quite in keeping with his philosophy of shared parenthood. Kate flashed him a grateful smile and gave each child a good-night kiss. Curling up on the counch, she flipped through a magazine. She could hear Ed telling the girls to "settle down," but she couldn't make out their muffled responses. Ed handled the children firmly and generally fairly. How did she handle them? Skillfully? With sensitivity? There it was the lingering doubt. Had she turned Julie's moment of sadness into a moment of love? Tipping her head back against the cushion, Kate thought back to her own childhood. How had her own mother handled this problem of equal love? Quite simply, Kate recalled. Mrs. Talbot practiced what could only be described as fanatical fairness. Emphatically stating that she loved her children with equal measure, she set about proving her case with such strict rigidity that she created an atmosphere of appalling uniformity. Anti - favoritism was conscientiously maintained, especially when it came to material things. If Ann needed a new dress, Mary and Katherine automatically got dresses too. The boys, Dave and Phil, received shirts or jeans or socks, anything of equivalent value to the dresses. With the advantage of historical perspective, Kate could see what had been wrong with her mother's method. There is a distinct difference between equality of love and quality of love, and sadly she realized that she had always been aware of the difference. "A furrowed brow leaves a permanent scowl." Ed was standing in the doorway, his head cocked to one side as though he was appraising her. "Huh?" Engrossed in her reflections, Kate was startled. "I said, a furrowed brow..." "Never mind," Kate interrupted. "Did you think that one up all by yourself?" "Certainly. It's one of the many profound truths I have tucked away in the far reaches of my mind that I occasionally bring forth to astonish you." "How inconsiderate of me. Shall I take notes?" Trying to sound sarcastic, Kate couldn't keep from betraying her amusement. It was the sort of pleasant banter they often engaged in. There was an unconventional intimacy about it. "All right, Great Oracle, tell me another truth." The teasing quality was gone from her voice when she continued, "Do you think that we love our children equally?" "Hey, what kind of a question is that?" he asked. "Is that what you were pondering just now when I came in?" "Well sort of. What do you think?" "I've never really thought about it, but," he groped for the words, "I guess we don't; they're so different!" Quizically raising his eyebrows, he asked, "Is that the answer you came up with?" "I I don't believe we do." She paused as though she were amazed by her admission, then continued more purposefully, more positively. "Tonight Julie accused us of not being fair, of loving Joni better. She seemed to be asking for equality, but I don't think that's what she wants - what any child wants. If you reduce love to an equation, like my mother did, you end up with a meaningless symbol. It's the quality of love that counts. We don't love Julie and Joni equally because they're not equal. Like you said, they're different they're unique and we love them uniquely." Sitting down on the couch beside her, Ed cuddled her in his arms. He brushed his lips against her cheek, then whispered in her ear, "I love you uniquely." Their eyes met, acknowledging the meaning of the words, and together they looked down at the barely perceptible podding that was beginning to swell beneath the smooth fabric of her wraparound skirt. "Follow Me" A child once sat on a sunlit hill While people all around were still, She'd simply fidget with her clothes, And wonder at the sky, And think how high it maybe was, And if the silence had a cause. The earth beneath was warm and dry, And people here and there would cry. As she was looking all around, She wondered if the heat Was why or could it be the glowing sun So bright that caused their eyes to run? Then at her mother's prompting hand She turned, and looking up the land She saw a man who spoke to all, And wondered why he was Causing such silence on the hill. And for a moment - she was still. All while He spoke, this innocent child Looked up to Him, until He smiled; Then heaven filled her tender eyes -She knew and understood. When he said, "Follow Me," she sighed Pam Wilson And like the others, softly cried. Look at her sitting by the window Calm, dignified she looks Pondering Watching the people And the rain And the snow Dating Dancing Playing She used to enjoy life But now she's wrinkled, tired Many lovers Never just one love Never thinking she would be like this Lonely Alone Sitting by the window She used to be Gay Alive The men would call And she would not answer And then she would call And they would run to her side Yes, she was very much alive She now has a wrinkle for every man And every episode Was she happy? She says so Is she happy now? I think not Wrinkled Tired Sitting by the window Watching Thinking Wishing Wanting one more chance And that just one lover Sitting looking out the window with her. Merlin Calver On Joining I am mottled brown and green, Slightly amorphous and delicately Veined. I am still except for Some slight pulsing. I am a Man of a leaf or some other Thing that joined in the Godflow. I am mottled brown and green. I am mottled brown and green. I have lived my life and still Retained the quality of strangeness. I have walked through empty rooms of Many people, many with hands Curling me toward them, many blurred or Blind or shriekless. I have walked my own Bleak rooms. May I say I have no vacant Rooms tonight. Tonight, instead, I am Picking up a flute. And, quite lyrically in the Shadow of a branch, shall play my Soul for you. Subtly I resemble the tree. I resemble you and I resemble me. God knows. And, quite lyrically over a Shoulder, I shall beckon you to Join me. Weldon Champneys The Rain Beating Here The rain beating here and I Inside of a tin can Makes a very tight drum. I think of canned Geranium-hyacinth, periwinkle Night and wet dirt. Tic tic Tic tic Can you hear the beating of my Heart? Spring, they say, is the Birth of something wishful. Spring, My heart wants to tell you Something canned love. Tic tic Tic One easy-open self-Container. Weldon Champneys