Shimmering Electric Memory Making

Since my last post, I had a baby. My first. Usually when I talk about having this baby, this blessed blessed thing, I offer a long preamble explaining why this baby is so wanted and so loved. I revisit the time before him and package it in different ways, some of them bleak (so as to shine more brightly on this baby’s face) and some of them hopeful (so as to emphasize more strongly how this baby is the singular one I waited for). It starts to fade now, that before-time, and the package becomes smaller, a more economical story, as I sit with this baby in the present and watch him. Too fatigued to revisit the past couple years, I am guessing. Within this new frame, however, I wander a little bit here and there into the future. I watch this baby’s eyes for signs of the shimmering of memory making, the electric zap zap zap when my voice, my face, my long brown hair swirling on his cheeks, shock his growing brain into remembering, of all things, me.