Waiting for the weekend

Bonnie was going to go yesterday to St Louis, but came down sick: sick people aren't the best thing for the NICU so she is recovering at home right now. Weekend comes, we will go.

Flynn is doing fine. Took 8 ccs of milk at his nipple feeding. He is up to 21 on the continuous feed and I believe they plan to strive for more. He's been doing well with methadone withdrawal, and soon should be on no drugs at all. He has been comfortable, they say, if somewhat fussy. He seems to do best when people have time to comfort him, but that is not easy: there are so many sicker babies in the NICU.

I'm glad I can say that.

I watched videos of him last night and I wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was not there, just very far away. Such attentive eyes, watching his mobile as it goes around and around. Sparrow always seemed suspicious, wary. Flynn seems to ponder. "Don't know what I am looking at," the eyes say. "But I want to see,."

Sparrow loved the windows in the living room, and would lie there, a few weeks old, watching the curtains ballooning in and out with the breeze. Even today, after coming back from St Louis and declaring, several scores of times, "This is my home," she would look at those windows when she said it, those curtains. It's still a part of her mind, two and a half years later, even though she doesn't remember. Something about them creates a response.

What is Flynn laying away in his head, fodder for dreams and unremembered memory? What means home to him?

I am happy it looks like we will have a chance to find out.