THE NARRATIVE ARC
My Baby Knew Me Before She Was Born
We’ve always lived between the pages
I am 4000 miles away from my daughter Sarah, her husband Tomas, and my baby granddaughter, Luisa. The FaceTime contact and digital photos are wonderful. But today they aren’t enough. I press PLAY on an old title labeled, “Luisa Reads.” It’s a bit of an overstatement, since she was all of five months old at the time.
In the crib
My granddaughter Luisa lies flat on her back in her crib, ten days out from grueling, but successful open-heart surgery. A feeding tube is taped to her face, with bulky yellow mittens attached to hands that will try to yank it out at every chance.
She wears a side-snapping T-shirt that I bought as a joke the year before, with words from my favorite lyricist, “The Boss.” In bright red print, now it really tells the tale:
“Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself,
Hey there baby, I could use just a little help,”
In response to Luisa’s escalating fussiness, Sarah, pulls out two wildly shaped and colored stuffed animals. She moves them all around. She makes them sing. She tries different voices.
Nothing.
