Preemptive Retaliation

The Banner Saga 3 lived up to all expectations. When I completed it I was fully impressed with how the game ended and wrapped up my story. My victory felt hard won and flawed, but it was my victory so I cannot fault it for that. I sat through the credits and liked seeing my name pop up in there; feeling that I hadn’t only help fund it, but I had helped create it into something memorable for myself. I finished it with Lily asleep in my arms. She seemed pleased with the ending too.

Lily is edging closer and closer to three months now. Soon she’ll be out of one set of vests and babygrows and into another, slightly larger set. I’m excited for this, since I bought her a My Neighbour Totoro and The Office themed vests which I think will look adorable. I’ve also bought her a Hugsy teddy from FRIENDS, which I’m not sure is age appropriate, and a whole host of books that she won’t understand for a while.

I’m enjoying the way I can relive my childhood with her in a sense. At the bookstore I was milling around for a copy of somethingorother and found The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark which was a favourite of mine at school and involved a visit from a real life barn owl that did the toilet over the cracked linoleum tiles. Peepo was a book so old to me that I remember chewing the edges of the pages. This morning I received a package containing the whole cast if Letterland, from A to Z, and I reveled in the nostalgia of pouring over those illustrations to look into this absurd world of living letters. Right now she has no idea what any of these things are or what they mean, but it doesn’t matter since when I read them she smiles away anyway.

As more of these books fill our shelves, the more of my books I’m having to file away upstairs. This makes sense, since I wouldn’t want an intrepid young reader to get their hands on Rules of Attraction or Bukowski’s Pulp, but I still look wistfully at where they once stood, wondering when they can be returned to their place of prime. That might just be the way of it; sacrificing space in my home, rearranging my life so this new person can slot into it comfortably.

This is the case with writing, now more than ever. One of my flaws when it comes to writing is never having a solid routine to work in. I tend to pick it up whenever I feel inclined to, which gets less often when it comes to the difficult stuff. This random, sporadic burst of creativity is now being corralled even further into the twilight hours between Lily’s bed time and my own bedtime.

I don’t mind it though. She’s good enough to stay awake for, and I am writing again, which I think is worth staying late for.