Deuces

Daughters, I want to tell you about when I thought I'd have a son. It was long ago... so very long ago...  I was dating someone I thought I might someday marry, and we would often talk about the kids we would someday have. And I unilaterally decided we would have a son, and his name would be Ethan. And I was quite sure of it. Perhaps as sure as I was that I would someday marry that boyfriend I adored and loved.   The boy with the warm and honest smile.  The boy with whom I laughed and danced. The handsome boy I talked with on the phone all hours of the night. And every once in a while I still smile when I think of that would-be son, Ethan, because it reminds me of a great love, and because his name was significant and well-thought out. Someday I will tell you how I derived at that name, Ethan. If I told it to the world now they would see deep into my heart, and maybe that's a place I only want to tell you girls about.  But I can tell you and the world now that...

I like the window seat. It's where I think real hard, remember real good, and dream most big. It's where I stare out at moving clouds and pretend the person next to me doesn't exist.  It's where memories dazzle my brain. Vivid flashes of family, friends, lovers, and encounters of both the bizarre and profoundly normal- moments that I had managed to almost forget until sitting on some plane, flying somewhere, in some time zone, staring at some clouds rolling by.  These clouds from this window seat- They remind me.

Alana, 361 nights ago I held you in my arms at exactly this hour. Nursing you, cradling your warm, naked, new body close to mine. Completely in love. So in love. I hope you know that kind of love someday. It's transcendent... unmatched... calming... whole... And you were held, unnamed, in those hours, and it would be 2 days later that we named you, officially.  (It turns out- we couldn't leave the hospital  without naming you). So let me tell you how your name came to be. Alana, Your name was on the short list for a while.   Your dad always liked it. It is my middle name. And when I was pregnant with your sister, gender unknown, he tossed around the name Alana if we had a girl. But I knew the baby I was carrying was not an 'Alana'. Sometimes, you feel things deeper than in your heart... It's in your soul. And so your sister came to have her name, and if fit her perfectly. And then nearly 5 years passed of our lives... And when I held you, my new, calm, gentle baby w...

Sayler is kind. It's the kind of thing that could go unnoticed rather easily... Behind her boisterous confidence and cool shoulder shrugs- she sometimes projects a kind of  'unaffectedness' common in 5 year old children. But nothing goes unnoticed by her.  Last week she asked to borrow my nice stationary- the set I had *just bought from Target that I immediately loved.  I sighed heavily, longingly looking at the adorable cardstock and envelop that I would not get back, quietly calculating who I would have to forgo sending a card  to from the pile. But I relented, because it's Sayler.  Smooth, slick, sugary, spicy Sayler. She proceeded to write an assortment of sight words on her card. "Amarillo"... "Rojo"... "Esta".... She added a few hearts- the skinny tall hearts that are not chunky and round as mine were as a child. The reduced fat hearts... The paleo-hearts... The Atkins hearts... She said she was going to give it to 'Emma'- a g...

Alana, You are a wonderful and easy baby. I look forward to cradling you in my arms each day, and staring into your eyes. I can't do it for long. Because you wiggle free, or your eyes dart to the attention of your sister... always your sister. Or as we stare at one another you may use a free hand to grab the fat of my cheek or the fat of my chin (ouch!) and our staring session ends because... It can be a little painful, AJ.  I only have one face, you know... But it was worth the pinch and reminder I need to lay off the Milano cookies. But in those moments before you wiggle and grunt under the weight of my hands trying to hug you closer, I am devoted to only you. I want you to know that I love when you smile and look my way. You extend your arms outward and wave your wrists.... Up... Down... Up... Down... Your delicate fingers sometimes following with their own movements. And this means, You want to be held. I will pick you up, pull you close, so close I know it makes you uncomforta...

You're one of a kind. You're walking. You're 8 months. You're asleep. You're clever. You're sweet. You're observant. You're forgiving. How did I come to deserve you?       

Your hand on my knee, Come drive with me To wade in an ocean salty I'll claw fingers through sand, Sun on my hands The warmth to the cool on wet palms For a time, we'll bask Good humor with laugh, Hold tight, hold tight, remember