The Smallest of Thieves (L)

Alessandra—I found this from an email I had sent you in response to the wondrous occasion of your baby S (now better known as “the boss”) 3 years ago. I thought I’d post it in honor of your most recent boss who is keeping you from writing long and reflective pieces on Lynard Skynard.


Edited from 2005 original

One of the weirdest experiences of life is having a newborn baby those first few days in the hospital. What a surreal feeling to be intimately bonded with this little stranger that has been growing inside of you. It’s a million times giddier than the experience after you're married and you refer to each other as wife and husband, and giggle thinking someone will correct you.

That feeling of calling for the nurse, saying, "I want my baby" with utter confidence when you really feel like you’ve just been handed the keys to a kingdom and no one has yet discovered that you’re really just a pauper. And the marvel when moments later they appear with this little thing that is yours, that is part of you, but hours ago, before they were born, you wouldn’t have been able to pick them out of a line up. That feeling of "Oh, there you are! That's who you are!" without actual recognition. It’s like having amnesia with your soul mate, and then having to and getting to know them all over again.

Sometimes when I'm doing G’s (my first’s) hair in the morning and her bare back is to me, I will touch her arms. They have these tiny bumps on them just like Chris’. I run my hands over their sandy surface as I stare at her back with its little dark hairs at the bottom, just breathing in the perfection of her imperfections and the beauty of her completeness as this little person. Yet it is still unfathomable that she is this grown, this absolute seven year old. I am still in awe that I made her, we made her—that once she was in me and now is growing out of me, but still is somehow half me. It's still a miracle when I have the time to slow it down enough to see it.

L