“It is quite true what Philosophy says: that Life must be understood backwards. But that makes one forget the other saying: that it must be lived forwards. The more one ponders this, the more it comes to mean that life in the temporal existence never becomes quite intelligible, precisely because at no moment can I find complete quiet to take the backward-looking position.”
My mom and her husband (better known as Grammy and Grandpa DD) were visiting from Connecticut this weekend. Brooke adores them both, but for the first few hours of their short visit, she bobbed and weaved in and out of their space. It’s what she does with guests in our home. Approach. Retreat. Approach. Retreat.
She popped up next to my mom as we sat around our kitchen table after dinner.
“How do you spell Grammy?”
“Brooke, you know how to spell my name. Can you tell me?”
“I’ll spell it backwards.”
And then she did.
“Y M M A R G”
I could barely breathe.
“Brooke, can you spell YOUR name backwards?”
“E K O O R B”
We went through Mommy, Daddy, Katie, some random friends from school. She spelled each and every one of them. BACKWARDS. Dora, Boots, Charlie, Lola. BACKWARDS.
Did I mention that she can’t read yet?
That she’s FIVE?
No matter how you spell them, I am at a loss for SDROW.