Restroom

Of the two stalls in the restroom outside my room in Dodd-Mead house, I always preferred to use the stall closest to the wall because it felt much more secluded than its neighbor.

I had just received my mother's phone in the mail. It was now mine. My Subscriber Identity Model (SIM) card made it mine. The phone slides up to reveal a full keyboard and a small camera.

Hunched over with my pants around my ankles, I would look over the 20+ pictures of Mariana over and over. These few images were about all I had from my daughter. I could only visit her vicariously through family and friends whose chance encounters with my daughter were brief.

Though I excreted, I remained emotionally constipated.

It was a huge change to have more than pictures, pixelated video, and sound bytes of Mariana. She's right there, in front of me.


I've tried keeping a blog updated before, and I've found it hard to do because there is often nothing interesting to share or if there is, I prefer to keep it private and unwritten.

With Mariana, it's hard to choose what to write about because a day spent as simply as sitting at the apartment most of the day affords so many views into Mariana's developing world.

Is this what being a parent is about? Any time I have something to talk about, it is a normal occurrence in people's lives, but it is my little Mariana whose poop the day before smelled like a full turkey dinner.

She was the one who became an expert roller-over.

Her laughs are what I love waking up to as my mind plays catch-up with the day's hour.

She just went camping, there is a wealth of material right there.

Goodness, goodness, goodness. What a change:

Small pictures in a small bathroom stall then, being peed on by a naked Mariana sitting atop a boulder overlooking the mountains and river streams now.