Before bed, I quietly rocked Ramona. I stared at her. She stared at me. And then she pinched my t-shirt between her fingers, brought her hand to her mouth, and pretended to "eat" what she had plucked. And again and again. Her little mouth smacking, no smile. A serious endeavor, eating whatever off my shirt. Off my cheek. My shoulder.
I whisper quietly, mostly just move my lips, what are you doing? I am not incredulous, I just want to know. I get no response. But I see her small monkey face and she seems more baby than she has felt in months.
Perhaps she was a monkey, perhaps she was my monkey?
It's times like this, when I see all the past and the present mixed up. I see the moment, there, standing all alone. And it breaks my heart because it's beautiful. And it's slipped away. It's moved on to its next spot. And I really should just close my eyes and reopen them.
Since then I've turned that part of an e.e.cummings poem around in my head...I'll get it wrong maybe, but this is how I remember it....I do not know how you close and open, all I know is the blue of your eyes is deeper than all roses.....and I remember being a primate and sitting, relaxed in the shade, my sweet mysterious baby, miracle, eating fleas from my shaggy coat. And not thinking, not wondering, not weeping. A monkey mind.
how stinking sweet. your very own monkey baby. Perhaps trying to find a way to take care of you the way to tend after her. That very much is a beautiful moment. :O)
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