In TinkerCreak, Dillard writes how her exploring/looking is her "leisure as well as her work." She says that it is a "fierce game she has joined because it is being played anyway." Like motherhood, I think. (I grab at any new description.) Being Ives' mum seems like a fierce game. A game in which the "pay offs, which may suddenly arrive in a blast of light at any moment" are generally, instead, invisible and internal. In the light blasts: his waking, his speech, his shoulders. He touches his forehead to the table when Thom prays before we eat. Like a prostrating muslim. He holds both our hands and says amen. I wonder what he is learning. I hope that ceremony matters, that eating is done in communion, that within a day there are times of pause - breaks in sight. It is hard to know - the fierce game is a long one.
all my love, nikaela