I have no post in my mind. Just typing to see what happens.
We used to have to write our stream of conscious in 7th grade as an exercise in class. I loved doing this, but was always suspicious that the teacher was just nosy and wanted into my personal business. My VERY IMPORTANT 7th grade business. Ahem.
Lots of childhood memories have been seeping into the foreground these days. Seeing my own son grow and change so fast has me thinking. He is going to be a KID soon. Not a baby, but a real living breathing, running, yelling, dirty kid. With his own childhood memories. What will they be? I am dying to know.
I washed his little legs tonight in the bath. They are perfect. Not a blemish. Someday in the near future they will have scrapes, bumps, and bruises from running amuck. There was a stretch of years where my legs were a wreck from all the playing I did. Battle scars from a rich kid life. Well—not $rich$—but you know what I mean.
I removed the baby-toe-fuzz from his perfect little toes, and savored their loveliness. SAVORED. Toe jam. Yes I did. Because they are actually going to be used for walking/running/jumping one day, and their pristine goodness will be only a baby bathtime snapshot in my mind. I know I will always remember them as they are now.
I wonder if his memory will work like mine. Clips from a movie. Snapshots. Storyboards. I can’t hear my memories very well. I can’t always remember just what was said. But I can see them.
My parents had this water-bed that my brother and I used to sail on. We would squish our little bodies into laundry baskets, swaying back and forth on the waves. I don’t know where we went to, but the journey there was a blast. The memory is vivid.
What will be vivid to Benton when he looks back on his kid life? I hope he remembers it with a grin. He still has a few years until stuff sticks. So I will try to keep his memories as best as I can until then.