I feel like I'm running out of words. I sit at my computer and stare at the blank white screen, willing the thoughts to assemble themselves, the words to flow into prose, but it doesn't happen.
Perhaps it is the weather, oppressive in its coldness, the steely sky, the blanket of snow, ice, rain. This endless winter.
More likely, I find myself at a loss for words as I wait - patiently impatiently patiently - for Peanut's first word.
At 16 months we still live in relative silence, our conversations a one-sided affair. I fill the air between us with questions, with observations, with two-sided dialogue. There are giggles and babbling, but words still elude us.
I have yet to hear the sweet sound of "Mamamamama".
Of "Up! Up! Up!"
Or of a vehement "NO!" (How victorious would that act of defiance be? What cause for celebration?)
My sweet girl, so happy and easygoing and laid back. I long to know what is locked away in her mind, what she is thinking, what questions she has. I long for her to make loud demands and quiet chatter. I wonder, what is waiting to bubble forth?
It's as though there is a limit to my words. As I give them to my daughter, waiting for one - any one - to be returned to me, I run out of resources, and there are no words for here.