They were some of the happiest times in my life. I spent every day thinking about her, every day I spent with her was a joy, I often dropped in on the weekends just to see her for a little bit, because two days without her was unbearable. Sometimes she would be napping and I would impose on them, but often it was a carousel of emotions, to see her, to see him, to avoid the mother's perplexed gaze, to explain to the sister that I still loved her too.
Things with him had changed, because he wasn't around as much and because things with the burnham had somehow miraculously resumed and seemed better than ever. I spent my days with her, pleased and happy, my nights with the burnham, learning him again and exploring our love again. Happy times, indeed.
Things changed there, in a good way, and it was the warmest it ever was there in that house and it was all because of her. Because she loved me so fervently, I became hers and spent more time with them than ever before. I felt like I was part of their family, we ate dinners together, I sat in on some of their holiday celebrations, I saw the way they had become a family. It was lovely and I was so grateful to be a part of their lives. Every so often the pang of what would never be would rise up, often I found her a tiring woman, but being with Iris made everything a wonder. The summer ended; she was a caterpillar for Halloween, there were so many of their holidays, some of which I sat in on, watching him and the sister recite the prayers, smiling with her.
Time with the squish was easy. I cannot think of another way to describe it. Often, the things in my life I remember in great detail are the moments I feel disappointed or confused, but there was none of that with her. When I am happy, everything just exists and I am able to be in the moment, not preserving it for scrutiny later, to dissect it, to puzzle over it, so that is what I attribute to not really being able to remember anything, that and the overwhelming sense of wonder.
Again, I will say, there are glimpses, the smiles, the feel of her hair curling along the nape of her neck, the squeeze of her fingers, the way she would kick out her feet, the round eyes narrowing in understanding at me, the joy she had for all of my babysitting gimmicks, except, I did not need to persuade her to examine a fallen leaf from the ground or go down the slide or sing or dance or bounce on the bed or play clapping games or read books or any of the other distractions I had for children. We simply existed together, happy to be in each other's presence and adored each other and whatever was nearby that would entertain us, we grasped and everything else was out of focus.
Five or six months passed like that, a joyful giddy thrill, and then one day, when he was driving me home, he asked me the question that would begin the destruction of all of it. Had I known now, I would have said no. At the time, I couldn't even consider a no, because it would mean not seeing her for twenty days and the idea of being apart from her for that long was unthinkable. The friends we had tried to warn me, to say that it wasn't a good idea, sometimes I wonder if they knew that woman's heart, if they knew already that she did not care for me and was waiting for her opportunity to ruin me in the eyes of her family, or maybe they just knew that the bigness of me and the delicateness of her would never survive in a small space and they were right.
He asked me to travel with them for almost three weeks to London while they went to visit his family.
The way I put it then, and the way I still think of it, it was like winning the lottery. I was so delighted by the idea. I love to travel, I hadn't traveled in sometime, I had never been to London. Mostly, I wanted to be with Iris. I don't know how the mother felt about it, I got the sense at the time that she wasn't that thrilled about having me around. I wish that she had stopped it, or I had said no, but in a way, it was as if neither of us could prevent the collision, we may have tried to steer our cars on ice blacker than empty space, but there was no point in trying, we were going to collide and it was going to be massive.
Winter was upon us. The preparations for the trip took some time, and we all bunkered down against a very snowy winter, the sort that was grueling to travel about in, the kind that makes you want to migrate, the unrelenting bashing of snow and wind and wet. He asked me sometime in November, I think, but it wasn't until February that we left for London.
I began to be too eager for her face and love, and too demanding of her. I said that I was willing to give up almost three weeks of my life to be their nanny, to accompany them to another country, to make their visit easy and comfortable. Mostly, I just wanted to be with the squish; she brought me joy and gladness of the purest easiest sense.
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