As a Child
Things I Knew Then
When I was a child, I couldn’t wait until my legs were long enough to touch the floor when I was sitting on the subway. And I wanted to be tall enough to hold on to the subway bar when standing — not just tall enough to touch it, but to hold it and have a significant bend at the elbow so that my arm created an “L.” And now I realize that day came and went unnoticed and uncelebrated. One day much later (by months or even years) I had the thought, “Wasn’t I once eager to be able to do this?”
When I was a child, I was dreadfully afraid of the dark. The absence of light filled me with panic. I didn’t just have a nightlight; I had my bedroom light on when I went to bed. My father would dim the light gradually, but only once I was asleep were my parents able to save electricity.
As I got older, I started to need some darkness to sleep, but pitch-black can’t-even-see-a-shadow darkness still terrifies me. I don’t need to be able to see much in the dark, but I need to be able to see something. I need moonlight or a streetlight coming through the window. At the very least, I need a digital clock — something to train my eyes on.
When I was a child, I wanted to be a ballerina. I took ballet classes twice a week, and I was very good (in my own estimation, at least). I even had a stage name — Danielle. That’s actually my middle…
