She often wrings her hands now, as if in mute distress or eternal petition. It’s amazing to watch her acquire a sense of self-consciousness, one body part at a time. She still hasn’t gotten over the fact that she has hands, with ten fingers attached. She gnaws on each one in careful succession to reassure herself of this fact. She opposes them and grabs things. I tell her this makes her practically a different person. Merely a month ago she could only stare intensely at objects; now she flings her hands out and wraps her fingers around whatever she can find.
Sometimes when she manages to grab ahold of my hand she’ll bring it to her mouth to suck and drool over it in great exuberance. Her tongue feels soft, like wet velvet.
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