I know when the big people are worried because they make the sound. The high, fast sound with their voices going up at the ends like questions even when they’re not asking questions.
They’re making the sound right now. Standing over my sleeping place, the box with the soft sides that they call a “crib”, staring at me like I’m a puzzle they can’t solve.
“Is she breathing?” the one with the warm smell whispers. That’s mama. I know this because she says “I’m your mama” approximately one thousand times per day, like I might forget.
I am very obviously breathing. Listen: in, out, in, out. This is not complicated.