On September 17th, my second child was born. Her name’s Daisy.
In the three days we were in the hospital before and after her birth, I was struck by how calm Jenny and I were, how normal everything felt. I suppose what they say about first and second children is true.
On the first night of our stay, I was pacing the hallway adjoining the room where they keep babies in incubator-like bubbles and was thinking about how I have a tendency to allow spaces/environments to impress themselves upon me — I remember most places I’ve been, all sorts of nooks and crannies, the relative cardinal directions in each location. It is as though I become a soft material and I allow myself to be wrapped by a space and I conform myself to it. I’ve been aware of this aspect of myself for a long time, since I was a child. It’s not photographic memory but something close. I could close my eyes and wander everywhere I’ve ever been in reverse.
Daisy was born in the same hospital as Elle, a year and a half ago or so I was in the same hallway, thinking the same thoughts.