...

Usually, someone's stuff is a trace of their selves, a telling record of where they've been and what they've done. It can be such a comfort when someone you love is away to have these records of their daily life around you, to remind you that the missing person belongs with you. For instance, if Eben is away and I get to hang a bit of his laundry, it always leaves me smiling. His clothes are deeply imbued with his personality, not just because they reflect his style, but also because of all the layers of memories put into each garment.

With the baby, it's a very odd phenomenon because she has stuff everywhere, all over our house--but as of yet, she has no history here. So this stuff functions not as a trace of her existence, but as a sort of premonition, a hint towards a future that we haven't inhabited.

our bathrobes,
hanging behind the bathroom door