{my topography}

The theme this week at Mama Says Om is cold. I’m having fun with this one.

I got it here, when we were there. Could there be a more perfect T? If you look reeeealy closely, you can see his first little tooth poking through. And yes, the other one’s coming in so we’re not getting much sleep around here. Still.

We came back late Sunday amidst rain falling warm against a crust of snow, and spent the first hours at home unpacking and sorting through mail. By the following evening, we finally felt caught up on all the little things that make a home run: the floor was vacuumed, the plants watered, bills paid, phone calls returned, and we had a moment to step out into the early falling darkness of evening.

The air was cold and the night slightly windy as we made our way downtown. As we turned the corner between tall buildings, we saw it: the cobble stone pedestrian walk bordered on either by trees and shops was lit with thousands of little white lights. Every tree, twinkling softly. It was so beautiful, we just stood there, our mouths open.

Then we made our way for toasty slices of chees pizza and hot chocolate and sat in front of the gigantic spruce at the top of the block, sparkling in a myriad of colors. Bean’s eyes were huge and round like small deep inkwells reflecting the lights. He grinned wide when the wind blew the branches. And from somewhere, Carol of the Bells was playing softly.

I’m feeling mostly better today, and tomorrow we’re our way back north. Towards our small, busy apartment; towards the unfinished business with the house and work; towards heaps of christmast cards that need mailing and cookies that need baking; towards snow; towards days without the joy and distraction Bean’s grandprarents bring to his life. But also towards our morning ritual of a walk downtown and coffee; towards our cat’s soft purring; towards friends; towards home.

Already the walk along the the canal on Thanksgiving day is just a collection of snapshots. Memory. Autumn, still clinging to tree branches. Canada geese in droves along the edges of the water.

self portrait. windy hair. up close.

concord grapes against concret.

autumn still lingers. leaves like bright flames over water.

a tangle of grass seeds like delicate jewlrey.

bird berries.

burgundy leaves. some small insect’s feast.

tree berries. sliver and knobby against dark water.

bird’s nest. lonley and dark in the twigs against the sky.

I woke up at 5:30 with stomach flu. NO, IT ISN’T FOOD POISONING, or everyone else would have it—and I’m the only one who had to run to the bathroom this morning where I sat in agony on the loo. I’ve been floating in and out of a feverish haze all day. The real reason I’m posting however, is that I spent most of today away from my beautiful baby and I missed him something fierce when I finally dragged myself out to the living room. And you know what? He missed me back! He reached his arms out and grinned and chuckled and just about ate my face of with his version of kisses.

It is as though I’m watching him grow at light speed today. Suddenly he seems so big: eating mostly solids (soup and sweet potatoes spoon fed by his nonna). Just in a heartbeat during our visit here he has learned to stick his tongue out and wave ‘bye bye’ and ‘hi.’

I’m writing about it because I’m not sure it’s really happening–as feverish and miserable as I’ve been today. I’m looking forward to coming back to what I’ve written when I’m better–to read it like a postmark. This happened. Because right now I’m pretty much just whimpering and wishing I could fast forward.