Post the Sixty-Third - baby book

Note: It is now the 9th of July, and I haven't posted since the 3rd, for a full six days. However, this was simply due to lack of time (thanks, dissertation!) and not for a want of things to write about, so I am now catching up. I just wanted you to be aware of this, dear readers, because I am going to be publishing the next few entries with the date that they refer to (for instance, this one was to be written on the 4th) to avoid having six posts dated the same day - and I'd hate to confuse you by doing that without warning. Also, this won't happen again, because a) I am now on top of my schedule and b) I already know when I'll next be away from my blog for a lengthy period of time, so I can queue posts up, and warn you then as well.

Last night I attended a rehearsed reading of a dear friend's play, which I had had the honour of giving feedback on in its earlier stages. I won't tell you what it's about, because it'll hopefully get picked up for production, and I don't want to spoil. I will say two things. Firstly, it's brilliantly written, and deals with several rather sensitive subjects in a nuanced and enlightened manner. Secondly, there is mention of a baby book - one of those volumes which can be filled in with the dates of your child's first smile, first haircut, first steps etc - and it is this that I take as the subject of today's post.

I found the references to the book incredibly touching even whilst reading the play alone on my computer, and the performance only reinforced that emotion. Why, I hear you ask, and what is the relevance of this to your blog? Well, without giving anything too crucial away, the book comes up because bits of it haven't been able to be completed - and that resonates deeply with me. The thing is, we have that book, or one like it. It's called Our Daughter, my parents got it soon after I was born, and it sits on the bottom of one of the bookshelves in my bedroom. Big deal. Most people have something similar, right? Right, but Mama and I were looking through it a while back - long before I got asked to read the play - and there are bits missing from mine, too. Principally, and logically, the dates I first stood, and took my first steps. I couldn't really understand at first why I felt such an emotional connection to that part of the script but now, on remembering my own book, it makes perfect sense.

Yet there is a difference between me and the characters in the play - though perhaps it is simply that I have progressed further than they towards being at peace with my past. Instead of that blank space, that unfilled gap, making me sad, it gives me hope. It inspires me to choose for myself what the date will be when I take my first steps and it fills me with anticipatory joy at being able to write that in my book.

So, this is a post to thank my dear friend Sam - for allowing me to read your play, for having me as part of your life, and for (once again!) providing me with a reason to keep on and have a really good go at this walking lark. It's hugely appreciated.