Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Four Steps Away
Ages ago, James's sister asked me for photos of Edie's nursery. I seem to recall laughing, a kind of hollow laugh, because New York babies don't have traditional nurseries. At least, among me and my non-rich friends (you know who you are). They rather have corners, carved out for a crib or chair or toys. That's what Edie has, a few corners.
Edie and I don't read much in this chair. Not yet at least. Right now she prefers hearing stories while laying in bed, which, I certainly can't fault her for. I keep trying to read in the chair, but she squirms around to look up at me as if to say, I think you know this isn't going to work.
The rocking horse? I got him at a yard sale in the Hamptons. Which, I mean, if you're going to go to a yard sale, it might as well be in the Hamptons.
This bear's name is Zelda Fitzbearald, because of her bow, worn at such a rakish angle, reminiscent of her namesake's wild and free-wheeling style.
I'm not going to lie; sometimes I dream about having a house with more than one closet. Or drawer (we have one drawer . . . in the whole apartment). Maybe even a guest bedroom. But something I don't dream about is to have Edie sleep farther away from me. She sleeps about four steps away from me. There is no door separating us. I can hear her breathe. And I love it.