Tuesday, July 15, 2008


We were in Detroit, and we had a two-bedroom suite. M and I were in one bedroom and the girls were to sleep in the other bedroom. E slept on the floor next to the bed in her sleeping bag because she still falls out every time she sleeps in an unbarricaded bed, and L slept in the pack'n'play. The big comfy bed in the middle of the room lay fallow.

Neither girl slept fantastically. I suppose neither the flimsy pack'n'play mattress nor the floor are as comfy as their usual accommodations at home. L ended up in our bed both nights but each night I was able to nurse her back to sleep pretty quickly. Sometime in the undefinable space between Saturday night and Sunday morning I awoke to find E standing next to me, her head inches from mine. She climbed up in our bed and lay briefly on top of me. I started to move over so she could lay next to me, but she indicated that I should go closer to the edge, instead, so she could be between L and me.

This was not the king-size space we have at home, and this little bed suddenly held all four members of our family. E was wedged snugly between L and me. Her spoon shape folded right into my curves. Whenever you are curled up so tightly with someone you love, whether it's your partner or your child, your body is aware of the parameters of the touch. I could feel E's body against me beginning somewhere under my chin and around my collar bone and ending somewhere against my knees. I always try to envision, in that sensation, the exact line of cells that are reaching out to have contact with this other creature, and the exact delineation of her cells where they brushed mine. Invisibly, with eyes closed and without moving I tried to trace its shape, as the sports commentators do with their white markers on the replay screens. I imagined, as I always do, the contours of my body, feeling her warmth, and the imaginary line defining the edge of touch. And then I thought something new: when you're wrapping up the leftovers so nothing goes brown and everything stays fresh, this is what the plastic wrap feels like where it meets the guacamole. Pin It

Life as we know it is over

L mastered the step leading up from the family room into the kitchen. Warning: SHE IS NO LONGER CONTAINED. Pin It