Our air conditioner quit on us tonight. Perfect timing: we are moving AGAIN to another rent house. Soon. In about 1-3 weeks? I can’t sleep. No surprise. Most nights I crawl into bed with Arden. “Mommy, will you lay down with me?” is her whimper. I tell her she’s too big for me to sleep with her every night. But secretly I don’t mind. I grab her hand, and she falls asleep quickly while I stare at the dark ceiling trying desperately to remember everything I can about her as a baby.
We were in the 1915 Bethlehem house. Her crib and room furniture were black, walls light pink, carpet taupe. I remember photographing her for the first time when she was only 2 weeks old. I used my 35mm camera with black and white film. I framed the pictures. I still like them. She had this doe-eyed face, observant. I loved laying her out on the floor after a bath and massaging her little body while lullabies played in the background. She would kick her legs with delight and coo. I’d stare at her and ask her who she was going to be when she grew up, what was she going to sound like. I longed to hear her talk. How would she sound? Those evenings were so calm and peaceful. I can’t get that time back.
