Baby

Baby

do you remember clambering up and down those great granite rocks at central park that break through the green grass hills like shark fins in the sea? how large you seemed. how small we were.

do you remember, like i do, those hexagonal paving stones? how many times i must have skinned my knees in the central park zoo? "someone told me it's all happening there," you'd joke, and even as a baby, i knew to say, "I do believe it's true."

do you remember having a balloon tied around your wrist by bigger hands, adult hands, and relishing in having something that bobbed and weaved and followed you and you alone?

my mother once told me that we were the most fantastic thing she ever created, even though she often felt like we were creating ourselves