SHE JUST KNOWS

Dear Spike:

9:54 p.m.: Long night, tonight. It took an entire Earl Scruggs album to put you out and even now you remain restless.

I like to think it might be because you had such an amazing day today — the kind you simply don’t want to end.

Oh no, you’re up again...

10:10 p.m.: We went to the zoo early this morning, — so early that you and I were practically the only visitors in the park. We were alone as we dropped in on the white alligator, the kangaroos, the zebras, the colubus monkeys, the amur tiger, the african elephants and the orangutans. You seemed to be engaged in the experience in a way that wasn’t there the last time we visited the zoo.

But it was the giraffes that seemed to captivate you most. I’ve never seen such an inquisitive look on your face or such recognition in your eyes. You watched one of the giants, in particular, for five minutes straight, following it left and right, near and far — nearly without blinking. It staggered me to realize that you were giving him some serious thought. And he, in turn, seemed to be contemplating you. I wondered, for a moment, whether you two were having a conversation that I simply don’t have the capacity to understand.

And now you’re up again...

10:24 p.m.: The first time he met you, my friend Roger looked deep into your eyes and sighed.

“She knows,” he said.

“Knows what?” I asked.

“She just knows.”

Indeed.

You’re awake again.

10:52 p.m.: I often feel as though you are — at once — learning about me and yet also telling me everything about me that I need to know.

I wonder if you were having the same experience with the giraffe, today. I wonder what he must have told you. And I wonder what you must have told him.

11:58 p.m.:You’re asleep (I think for good) in your cradle, underneath your mobile — the one with the dangling duck, frog, turtle, elephant... and giraffe.

I’d give anything to know what you’re dreaming about.

Love,
dad