Bang

Bang—the red peg goes in and slides down the wooden box. You hold the yellow one, and I have the green one. You practice placing them through the holes on top of the box one after the other. Your tight lips indicate focus, and I imagine your brain on fire. I remember everything I read about neuroplasticity and the fascination brains have with puzzles, especially tiny and fast-developing brains like yours. What a privilege it is to witness moments like this.

This is the toy’s second chance, though. When I first got it for you, you weren’t impressed, even though it came with a scientific description about why it was designed for your age at the time. But I guess 8-month-old Elena wasn’t ready then, so I put the toy in the closet and announced, “We’ll see you again in a couple of months.”

Early this week, I went into the closet for another toy rotation and noticed the wooden drop box with its colorful pegs. There they were, like enlisted soldiers ready to serve. I chose to give it a second chance for you, and the time was right.

You carefully examined the purple latch that keeps the pegs above the holes. I pushed it to let them drop into the bottom of the box and watched you reach in and grab one. No one had to tell you what to do next. You grabbed the peg with all your fingers, turned it upside down, and aimed at one of the holes, missing the first two times but succeeding on the third try. Bang!

Today was a day for second chances for me, too. I’ve been wanting something for our family for a very long time, even if I wasn’t 100% sure what that something was. Your dad knows, and many others who attended know as well, but I have some old scars that blur my vision, so I kept this visit in a closet, just like your peg drop box.

As I stood there, resting my head on your dad’s shoulder, wiping the tears from my eyes, I chose to stop searching for answers or explanations. I needed another try without much rationality, just living. I let go, and I felt it all—bang. Community, how it all comes back to that. On this last day of a challenge that welcomed me into a marvelous writing community, I realized I’d been searching for a place to belong as myself. A place to push my ideas and see the world like you do, with hunger and curiosity.

When I started this blog in 2019, I took Kyle’s advice to let stories teach me stuff. I’ll never forget his words, “All people want is to hear a story. Start there.” The context was more professional, and that idea has been the guiding light of my posts ever since, but now that I wrap up this month of stories, I realize that stories can also teach me the moment they are born.

Watching your golden curls blend with the morning light that invades our living room is a moment worth learning from. When my hand held on to your dad’s as we heard those songs, it was a moment worth learning from. Hearing the Bang from another successful peg drop is a moment worth learning from.

Elena, I’m so grateful to Amy and everyone else who welcomed and encouraged me to do this day after day. I hope you meet people who see you and show you kindness and generosity. Most of all, I hope you always give your creativity second chances. Who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll even join me in this challenge.

I love you.