sometimes i imagine we are a thousand years old. i have no record to show otherwise. in photographic testimony of the past near-twenty months, Dave and i are only props, background to The Child.

bon&dave

and i am happy enough with that, because time, she has been catching up these late years. grief and fear and sleep deprivation, they all show in the eyes, show one up brittle when one tries to make up nice. and no one can compete for cute with a baby whose skin is fresh from the gods, in any case. safer behind the camera.

if it is just the two of us, Dave & i, one of us is asleep before midnight. it never occurs to me that the camera could be just for us, could have a use after Oscar’s bedtime. i am a pre-digital creature, who learned decades ago to hide her vain poseur’s delight in photographic evidence of her existence, in proof of a misspent youth. no need to take too many pictures of yourself…because those Polaroids? you didn’t fuck with those, man. they cost money.

bd

but we are still here, for what it’s worth. hibernatory, muddling through…in a place where there is little to articulate. but here. still, alas, both of us completely without any evident musical gifts whatsoever, as we proved when i forced Dave to sit up and sing Christmas carols with me tonight, over much wine. (we eventually found the David Bowie/Bing Crosby “Little Drummer Boy” duet on Youtube and that was less painful than my warblings of “Greensleeves” and “O Holy Night.” damn songs have too many notes, spread much too far apart.  someone tell those composer types, thank you.)

and you should thank Santa and the bebby Jesus that despite the fact that we taught ourselves to play “Feliz Navidad” on the guitar just like a mariachi band this evening, oh yes, so vividly that i imagined pompoms hanging from the brim of a very different hat than the trusty pink deco plaid that keeps me from having to do my hair all winter, we did not capture that abomination of all things holy for your viewing…erm…pleasure.

there is, instead, only these, to remind me someday when this time is long behind me and i am able to look back on it, to peer behind me wondering where it all got to, that he & i were not so old yet as i thought. that silly, wasted years could still be eked out from the daily grind of loving and bearing all this adulthood we’ve reaped. that we were here, even through a time i cannot imagine being worth remembering much about.