"Shiny, laughing, perfect, golden...gone." - John Bucchino
It is 6:25 on Monday, and Lily and I are on the R train heading to Manhattan. She is sitting on my lap, eating a Sesame Street cracker.
About an hour ago, I realized that both strollers were sitting in the rain, and that the carrier was in the car. I then knew that I would need to carry Lily from Forest Hills to downtown Manhattan. Not just Manhattan. Downtown Manhattan.
A few minutes ago, we sat on the stationary train for fifteen minutes as I grew more and more anxious. I knew that this meant fifteen more minutes of entertaining her on the subway. I also knew this delay would make me late for rehearsal.
A few minutes from now, Lily will choke on her Sesame Street cracker. I will have to reach into her mouth and pull it out, and I will worry that the surrounding passengers will think I am a bad mother for giving her a cracker that she obviously could not handle.
A few minutes from then, I will exhaust myself with every baby game I know, trying to keep her amused- sometimes it will work, sometimes it will not- and a few minutes from then I will consider stopping at the Starbucks just one block from rehearsal, calling Jackie, and telling her that someone would need to come and get us, I couldn't make it any further. But I will keep walking. I will see Ryan standing in the doorway. I will hand him Lily. I will go upstairs to rehearsal, apologizing as I walk through the door for being late. I will realize that I am interrupting someone with my apology, and will sit down- quietly feeling defeated.
But right now, in this moment, I am sitting on the R train. Lily is on my lap- her little feet covered in her little white tennis shoes that she allowed me to put on her today, her soft curly hair resting under my chin- and she is eating a Sesame Street cracker.
And it is this moment, right now, that I know I want to remember.