There are a hundred and one things I want to remember about them...The way Bijou cuddles so intensely, I often feel suffocated as I lay her down to sleep. The way her arm feels around my neck, with her cheeks smashed sticky against the flesh that made her. The way she laughs so freely, sincerely trying to relieve me of any misfortune she may have instigated, all the while knowing she has found the path of least resistance, the one that leads to exactly what she wants, exactly where I am. The way she moves through time and space, so groovy, but strangely listless, calculated, nonchalant, and expressive. The way Octave casually throws around her precocious vocabulary on any day of the week. The way she fights me so hard and loves me so well. That time Octave cried about being thirsty, and minutes later a torrential down pour came and delightfully delivered her persistent need. The time Bijou colored orange marker all over her sisters favorite photograph, of me at age 5. The way she sobbed heartfelt tears about her most special photograph being ruined. “Bijou, that was the photograph I was going to remember mom by. I was going to keep it even after she dies.” The tears ran deep and wide, from her and then me. Her sentimental heart either inherited or learned, is one in which I can deeply identify. That time Octave told me I should have just had one baby, because two babies seems like a lot of work for me. The way I chuckled but then spent the rest of that night reflecting and worrying that I must have given a burdened view of motherhood. That night she told me she had a bone next to her eye and she knew it because when she pushed on it, it wouldn’t go deeper. She told me she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she knew the name of that bone. That time she told me how she often wonders that Bijou will look like when she is older. How she wonders what she will be like too. How she read, and reads my mind. That afternoon we were on our “adventure walk” and the sunshine shone right behind a lonely crow on a forgotten fence. All 3 of us gasped at this simple, ordinary, yet exceptionally beautiful detail. How the world was spinning madly on, hardly noticing these seemingly insignificant things, but there we were, taking in it. Absorbing it into our DNA, like a forever ever guide to contentment, through awe and wonder.  How proud I felt as a mama. Like I had given them the long lost answer, the missing link, an informal invitation to a life worth living. All these things. I want to remember.