Memory Lane

Both Andres and Celia love hearing stories from the old days when they were babies. All it takes is for me to say, "You know, I remember way back when..." and their faces light up, ready to dive back into their first few months on earth. These stories have helped turn around many a bad mood. And sometimes they are just fun to tell.

I was standing in the kitchen with Andres tonight. It was getting late, and he was hungry, having had an early dinner at a pre-Thanksgiving feast at school. He asked me what he could eat. But he asked me in a casual way, like we were pals--not in the whiny voice that, sadly, I have become accustomed to hearing before bed. I looked at him. He was 7, and we were hanging out. Seven. I temporarily ignored his request for food.

"You know, I remember way back when you were a baby," I began. I picked him up and held him like he was an 8 pound newborn. He giggled. "I remember the day we brought you home. Baba and Tita were there, and so were Nana and Papa. I had no idea what to do with you. You were so tiny. And I remember carrying you, all swaddled up, and all you did was look up at the ceiling lights with this goofy look on your face."

I tried (and failed) to scrunch my face into that look.

"I looked at you," I continued, "and I thought, 'I love this guy, even though he doesn't do much.'"

He smiled. Then he said, "Now I do much."