I want to remember. I want to remember every day, every minute as we settle in our life as a family of four. I know I can't, I know I won't remember it all. I know that all of the challenging times, challenging days, all of the exhaustion, frustrations even won't be nothing compare to the happy memories we are making.
I want to remember the feeling of amazement that comes each and every time Manech threads words beautifully in his own way. Whether in french or american, his speech is becoming more elaborate with each day passing by.
Manech my boy, you always seem to have a point. You taught us to listen to you very carefully. You can adapt the language you use depending on the people you speak to. You'll sometimes get excited and start speaking to us in english to then switch to french in the middle of your sentence which makes for very funny conversations. You need e v e r y t h i n g to be explained to you and remember e v e r y t h i n g. I need to watch my prolific cursing habit. Damn it.
You are a stubborn little soul hiding behind angel's eyes. If you let your yoghourt free-fall to the ground you'll give us that look saying "it's okay, no big deal", and you make it very hard not to laugh.
You are a book worm. I know one day will come when you won't want to snuggle with me anymore for a story-time so I say yes almost each and every time you grab my hand, holding a book (or five) under your arm. Today you took dozens of books off of your bookshelves onto our living floor and you declared that these were to be read today. A couple of hours later, as I was doing the dishes, I looked over my shoulder and there you were, sitting on the floor, quietly flipping through pages.
Your sister follows the movement of turning pages and I secretly hope that she contracts the same virus. I know this is my job. To teach you both what I believe are the good stuff in life. Anyone who's been to our little home knows how much we love books around here. Whether to educate yourself or grow your imagination, I believe books hold magic.
I want to remember the way you look at your sister, 100 times a day. There's something with her hands too. You need to grab them, hold them, squeeze them all of the time. I can not predict what your relationship will be like but I want to give both of you the best chances to love one another like no one else.
I want to remember how I manage to share my body so that both of you get enough of it. Marlowe nursing while you're having a bottle, resting against my other breast. This is routine around here.
I want to remember the way you cover your sister's little bare-body with a swaddle so that mosquitos won't bite her when we're playing outside.
I want to bottle the love I see in your eyes when looking at her, so that I could give you a shot of it the day you two get into a fight.
I can not predict the world you'll get to live in. If I think about it too much I'll start to worry because what's happening out there is not an everyday fairy tale. France, your other country, is in deep pain right now and so we are.
But one day at a time, I believe love can make a difference.
I believe a loved child holds strong chances to grow into a loving human being.
At the end of each day, it's all the happy moments I remember when going to bed (way too late).