Remember remember remember
In the last weeks, Yara’s become quite the little storyteller. “Eeee eee plumb!” She tells me, running to the window, reminding me of the large deer we watched in the creek. We get on the phone with my sister, or my mom. “Eee eee plumb!” She tells them in earnest, her eyes wide.
As we walk around the yard, she points out the places we’ve seen frogs “kum-kum” and snakes “sssss” with a little dance. She seriously tells me which plants were munched on by deer and dreamily recounts when “baby, eee eee, mama,” a new fawn stumbled by, mother close behind. She remembers with her whole body, her hands tracing the path they took.
We, adults, write about, talk about, search for embodiment, enchantment. Remember, remember, remember, we pray. Or, is it really forget, forget, forget?
I tell her I think it’s okay if the baby deer eats the flowers. She smiles, blue eyes twinkling. “Baby eee eee *sniff sniff*”
