To my mom, November 9

Monday, November 9, 1981
          Well, you certainly made a handsome little clown, I'll save the costume you wore on your 1st Halloween to give it to you when you're grown.
          Speaking of growing, you really have these past couple months. I've noticed when I go to pick you up that you don't feel quite as thick and chunky like a butterball. Instead, you are now starting to really grow up and your legs are getting longer and stronger!! You're faster in your walker than I am on my feet! Gotta keep on my toes though, cuz you're getting into everything!

Monday, November 9, 2026

          I'm sometimes struck by the size and look of babies when they're still under a year old. I have memories of our two like that at that age, but somehow when I look at other people's kids at that same age it's like I forgot what it was like. Maybe that's why parents end up having so many kids—the kind who can afford it, in spiritual as well as physical capital—so they can remember what it's like to have kids at that age again. The first year is pretty great, nice baby breath, swollen wife's breasts, lots of cuddling and cooing, but then the next four years after that can be quite the task. I think Yume and I are happy not to have more.

My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.