Our lives, our memories are made up of little moments …
Just as I was about to strap T in the car to go trick or treating with her friends last Monday, she bent forward and vomited all over her lovely La Muerte dress. It looked like liquid chocolate on her black dress, which spilled into her orange pumpkin bag. Her little friend who came over for a play date exclaimed “Oh T, you’ve got the bug now!” And my little girl burst into tears, just as the afternoon was fading and the night was creeping in.
It was our wedding anniversary last Sunday and in the car, on our way to Truro, I turned to my husband who was driving and said “Guess how much I love you?” How much? he asked, humouring me. I replied “more than infinite!”.
At the corner of my eye, I saw the T’s facial expression change. She was hurt. The look of betrayal was all over her. This is our thing. Every night just as I tuck her in, we go through our dialogues:
“On the day you were born”. She replies with “It was the happiest day of your life”. Followed with a “Guess how much I love you?” Her answer is always “More than infinite!”.
“You know I love you more than infinite too, just like your dad, right?” I said to her as I reached out and held her hand in mine. She nodded her little head and the hurt was gone.
“She smiled and said with an ecstatic air: “It shines like a little diamond”,
“This moment. It is round, it hangs in empty space like a little diamond; I am eternal.”
– Jean-Paul Sartre, The Age of Reason