A Pocket Archive (30)

I submitted my order and set my phone on the edge of the bed, next to a tangle of blankets and an oversized UW hoodie from our most recent visit home. I could still detect a faint whiff of bonfire smoke from the fabric, mixing with the scent of day-old shampoo and the sweet, floral scent of freshly washed sheets. I could tell my hair was a mess in the back and my neck gave a slight pop as I stretched. I could also feel a dull ache blooming between one of my eyes and my legs were much stiffer than I cared to admit. Some part of me might be perpetually frozen at 26, but every once in a while, I find I am keenly aware that I am getting older and I don't wake up as easily or recover as quickly as I used to after late nights. Then again, perhaps it would be smarter not to spend an additional two hours birthday shopping online for toddlers.

My Gabby girl's special day was still almost two months out, but shopping for her had been surprisingly difficult. Most of the problem was that I wanted to find her something that was perfect, something she'd love forever, but it's hard to know what to get small people. They're just too little. The plague doctor had been a hit initially, but was later replaced by other stuffed toys and an old beanie baby. Maybe she wouldn't care as much as an older girl would, but I think babies are smarter than society gives them credit for, and I remember seeing her eyes light up over the glow worm my grandparents sent her when she was still tiny. She likes things that glow. Personally, I'd always thought the classic Hasbro toy was creepy. Then again, if it were up to me, I'd have gotten her a worm like the blue one from Labyrinth, which was arguably worse.

While the angel was a lot like me in terms of temperament, her preferences seemed to gravitate towards the opposite end of the spectrum compared to mine. She still liked orange and the warmer colors best, and she also enjoyed keeping her grandpa and uncles company while they worked on tractors or cars out in the drive. She hated baths and was terrified of chickens and thunderstorms, but still liked fireworks, and loved watching both Aladin and The Jungle Book on repeat. I'd found her a wonderful Folkmanis orangutan puppet, which I was sure she'd love, but somehow it still didn't feel like enough.

Or maybe I just didn't know her enough.

I sank back into my pillows and stared at the ceiling fan above me. That sick feeling was creeping back into my stomach again and I could feel a familiar sadness creeping over me. I'd found her bath crayons, light up fish, and bubble machines so maybe the tub would be fun and wouldn't scare her so much, but that was really more for her grandmother's benefit than anything. But what would she like?

I should know these things. I should know everything about her.

Was I a bad mom?