One of my favorite moments in film takes place during a montage in Amelie. In the scene(s), where the narrator depicts the causal connections taking place all around Amelie’s neighborhood (and life), a grandfather takes his grandson to the market every weekend, returning with a chicken which they roast together and carefully carve. The emphasis being on the most tender morsels of the entire chicken; two small globes of flesh below the breast.
The scene is tremendous for its cultural connections between food and family and savoring the simplest pleasures. But it also signifies something perhaps more intimate: the guidance between elder and youth, the active engagement that teaches far better than lecture.
I am experiencing many moments like this now with Simone–both of the small and grand variety. And to be honest, I don’t want to write about them. When I first started this blog, I wanted it to be a journal–not without commentary or bias–intended for her to learn a bit about the early years she would otherwise forget. It worked…for awhile. In retrospect, I think I fell into the typical trappings of being a parent. Some posts too didactic, some working too hard to find something “other” in a particular moment.
Regardless, I don’t think there’s much left for me to say in a public forum. All else is best left for conversations with her mother or the family and friends who visit and fall prey. Selfish, yes. But I don’t want to have great or terrible moments with Simone that are immediately translated into a context I can write about. Something gets lost in that translation. Maybe everything.
So, on this final post, I will say to you, Simone, that you are brilliant and defiant and rakish with your hunger for the world. My love for you is as immense as it is uncertain. I hope that never changes and it is my distinct pleasure (pain, sometimes too) to bear witness and care for you as you grow.
Thanks for reading.