I had imagined it would all stay etched forever. The little things he did as he grew up inch by inch, the one’s that fascinated me, that held me awe. How could anyone so little, so tiny be capable of so much I’d imagine. I thought I’d remember it all, the way he said N-O No, the way he would make light up or make an angry face…It comes back now and then when my little one does those things, stands in absolute defiance. I am reminded it has all happened before and I had then imagined it would be etched forever.
I was wrong.
It is forgotten; lost in layers…
I find it hard to believe it has gone into some deep crevices, some lost alleys, some hidden corners of my brain.
I had imagined it would stay forever as fresh as the moment was.
Hours, days and months of unfettered attention and love, exchanges and conversations – they should have stayed clear as ever.
But, only, they didn’t.
I remember getting mad at my mother for not remembering the little details of my Baptism. What did I wear? I asked her…she could not remember.
“How could you not remember? I was never important to you, was I?” I fussed.
And now as I try to remember my son’s face as he was little, it gets entwined in my little one’s face. The older and the younger lost in each other.
How I could I not remember? Did I not imagine it locked in my mind forever?
Have I now failed my son, in my inability to remember the details?
Or is this just like the rest, a reminder of the vicious cycle of life.
And once again as I play with my little one and he squeals in delight or throws an anxious fit, I imagine that these moments will stay in my mind etched forever.
I think, yet again, I will remember it all.
I was wrong.
It is forgotten; lost in layers…
I find it hard to believe it has gone into some deep crevices, some lost alleys, some hidden corners of my brain.
I had imagined it would stay forever as fresh as the moment was.
Hours, days and months of unfettered attention and love, exchanges and conversations – they should have stayed clear as ever.
But, only, they didn’t.
I remember getting mad at my mother for not remembering the little details of my Baptism. What did I wear? I asked her…she could not remember.
“How could you not remember? I was never important to you, was I?” I fussed.
And now as I try to remember my son’s face as he was little, it gets entwined in my little one’s face. The older and the younger lost in each other.
How I could I not remember? Did I not imagine it locked in my mind forever?
Have I now failed my son, in my inability to remember the details?
Or is this just like the rest, a reminder of the vicious cycle of life.
And once again as I play with my little one and he squeals in delight or throws an anxious fit, I imagine that these moments will stay in my mind etched forever.
I think, yet again, I will remember it all.
