Dear Archer,
Three years ago, today, you happened, and
then I happened and then we happened. I don't remember the precise
moment I knew you were the one.
Moments are left unattended, life shape-shifts. Children grow up. I
read about our past and cannot believe I have so easily forgotten so
much of where you came from. I have photos to remind me. And blog
entries. And scraps of paper and ideas and memories and old things I
can't believe you used to fit into. Old hats with snakes in them that
you wore last summer, or was it the summer before?
Wait. It was last summer. Now I remember.
I
don't know why it is so easy to forget. I'm pretty sure that if I
didn't document every last detail of your life I would be mourning all
the yesterdays: faded memories floating skyward like The Red Balloon,
and you as a newborn, baby, toddler, hanging by the string, waving at
me with your tiny fingers.
If I didn't have photographs
of you in your red hat against the blue sky, I might not be able to
remember how cherubic you looked that afternoon, pouting in the shade,
under the sun, that thoughtful look you get when you're watching people
and birds and the world.
You
have become your own person this year. Or I suppose it's just that I
know you differently now. The more you communicate and disagree and
fight me and love me and hate me and break my heart. The more you trust
me, believe me, kick me when I'm trying to tell you it's time to leave
because we have to go home. How you talk to animals not with words but
by singing to them. Humming songs in their ears softly, gently.
Most
recently you have become attached to the moon. You search the sky with
such concern. "Noon?" you say. "Where you go so fast, Noon?" And then
you turn to me and point out the window and frown and I say... "The
moon is sleeping, baby. Sometimes it sleeps in the afternoon. Maybe you
should give sleep a try...
But you stopped napping months
ago. You only sleep when it's dark outside. And you fall asleep with
your plastic lizard and your books and your music and the window drape
cracked slightly so you can see the moon and I hear you say "nigh, nigh
moon. night, nigh, zizard" before you fall asleep because sometimes I
stand outside your door and spy on you...
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