The Last Memory

My daughter has almost no memory of seeing.   It's so strange to me that that is so given that she had four years of sight, longer than that even until she lost most of her sight.   At least five years she could see and yet nothing.   The brain is still forming during the early years of life and it is quite possible the areas of her brain used in vision were repurposed to other tasks.  

Yesterday my daughter said to me, because she knows I want to know these things and she's just starting to be able to talk about it easily, "I have another memory from before I was blind.  We were going to Pinehurst and when we got there there was a wreath on the door.   I was so young that I had a squeaky little voice.   I went into the kitchen and I say on one of the tall chairs and ate carrots."

She had a very specific memory of going to Nana and Papa's house.  When I asked her if she remembered what things looked like, she said she didn't.   And that's sort of an odd thing.  Her brain told her she'd seen but she's also not sure what it looked like.  She couldn't explain it.

When she has these memories I write them down for her, here.   Because there are so few left.   Anything we can preserve in any way I try to do. 

The Big Boy Update:  As my son was getting ready for bed, we asked Alexa what the weather would be tomorrow.   After hearing he said to me, "Mom, do you know what that means?  It means pants, whatever shirt I want to wear, and a sweatshirt...just like every other day."   He got several sweatshirts for his birthday and Christmas and he loves them.   He wears each of them and thankfully because they're still a bit large on him, we should be able to get another year's wear out of them.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  When my daughter got dressed to go down the hill to get sticks with her brother yesterday. she dressed in jeans and a fitted shirt to protect herself from the briers she might encounter.   I thought she looked wonderful in the clothes as it was a very different look for her from her normal comfortable pants and sweatshirts.   She remarked when she came downstairs, "This is so not my style.   It's more man-like.   I have butt pockets, at least."  Then she headed off into the wild and I hoped she didn't get hurt along the way and was careful.