I know the delight of color. Of cherry red and apple green. Of cornflower blue and bright tangerine. I know a lemon tree against a blue fall sky.
I know Nico’s toes, baby toes, filthy with dirt from the park yesterday. I know his hands too, reaching into every hole, excavating pieces of plastic and torn balloons. I know the way his eyelashes look when he cries, like two little wet horns.
I know how to hover.
I know that clench in my belly, the jump in my heart, the shot of adrenaline when Ben falls, for any reason, to this day. How I immediately think he had a seizure, that he’s unconscious, and how he has learned now to say, I’m okay mama. I’m okay, when he sees that look in my eyes.
I know Matt and the joy he will feel when he gets the card Ben and I made him this morning in secret. How we used every marker we could find, swaths of blue, green, orange and yellow, how we covered every inch of that envelope and placed a simple card inside that said: This is the best day ever.
I know the feeling of new love, of meeting someone for the first time, of inching your fingertips closer to theirs.
I know being tipsy at a bar, probably in a foreign country with a friend, that friend who is wilder than you, who will lead you into some kind of adventure.
I know great design.
I know color.
I know, like I know how to spell, when something is beautiful.
I know my great uncle, the one who worked in textiles, who was known to snip off relatives’ ties if they were ugly and bring them a new one.
I know dreams fulfilled.
And those that have yet to come true.
I know the fear of, Is it too late? Have I blown it?
I know the surrender of no longer wondering if you made the right choices,
but continuing to move forward anyway.
I know how it feels to hold onto a grudge, and then one day to realize it’s gone, that maybe you forgave.
I know the lightness I felt afterwards.
Like I didn’t know I had been bicycling on two flat tires, and then with some oxygen,
a lift and I could sail forward again.