Yesterday, there were two new entries to my son's calendar.He had heard a car alarm repeating "Thursday, Thursday." (Yes, it was Thursday.)
Windshield wipers, washing mashines, and old refrigerators seem to whisper in our language and dialect, occasionally, deliciously. This was Sage's first encounter with"speaking machines" and it had made me wonder at the time, why he remained blankly on the top step of his cello teacher's brownstone instead of following me in.
Later inside, it happened to be the first time he played a double stop on the cello (a chord, two notes at once). Usually I don't pen-in these such small, delicate events, rather days like when he learned to ride a bike or when he first arrived in Tokyo and met his grandmother there.
I keep track of new things that pop up in Sage's life and put them in calendar form. A decade from now, when he graduates college (or whatever), I'll present the calendar to him and then each January of his life he can see that the 3rd was his first piano recital and each February, that the 27th was when he met a close friend. I hope this will later make for a life of mini-celebrations and smiles.
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