My father-in-law sent me this picture yesterday and asked if I remembered the moment.

I can’t say that I do. I know it’s Piper. I think it’s our house in Florida but it could be Illinois, too. I know that she looks around a year old, so we were packing our house. Again. I know I was still nursing her.  I know I’d quit a perfectly good job that I loved to be home with her, which required another cross-country move so that her Daddy could support us. But I don’t really remember. The lean years of juggling babies, bills, and school on graduate student stipends are a blur, mostly. I’m glad for the picture. I’m glad I let Piper drag everything from the cabinets and explore. I’m glad I let her crawl on the dishwasher for fun. I’m really glad she didn’t break it because I know we couldn’t have afforded the repair. I’m glad I was there even if my memory wasn’t.

I asked my partner if he remembered it. He agreed that that time was a blur. “We let her do that?” he asked.

“Apparently, you did,” Sissy agreed.

Piper peered in for a closer inspection. “That baby is misbehaving,” she said. “Where’s her mama?”

I was there. Right there. Even if my mind wasn’t.