She won’t remember my grandpa looking at her and saying, “She pulls on my strings…” or her daddy rocking her and whispering, “You’re just the prettiest thing in the whole world.”
She won’t remember the first time we walked her through Tahoe Park, Jonathan pushing the stroller and me hobbling along trying to keep up. There was a light breeze and the sun was low. A group of people were doing yoga together, and softball cheers rose up into the air as the ice cream truck rattled by playing Pop Goes the Weasel. I had never been happier.
She won’t remember the time she first made me cry tears of frustration after she’d been fussy on and off all day long. I changed her diaper as she cried and I cried.
She won’t remember us wine tasting on our sixth wedding anniversary because she slept through the whole experience. She won’t remember wrecking havoc when we get home later that afternoon, crying in pain over a gassy belly. I’m glad she won’t remember me leaving her for a pedicure as Dad took over.
She won’t remember the first time she really studied my face with her big eyes. It felt like we played a long staring match that she was determined not to lose.
Thankfully, she won’t remember the two times I’ve driven with her not buckled into her seat belt. Oops.
She wont remember the early mornings we spent cuddled on the couch- the sun barely visible, and the flicker of the TV keeping me awake just enough to feed her.
She probably won’t remember that every time I put her to sleep I kiss her forehead, stroke her head, and whisper, “Good night sweet Anna” even when it’s not nighttime.
There’s a lot she won’t remember, and a lot I won’t either. New moments will come, and these will fade away only to become beautiful memories. If they are here, I hopefully won’t forget.