I'm not exactly sure what to write about the tattoo's we've gotten since Margot was here.
The simple answer, I suppose, is that we got tattoo's after she died because, well, there didn't seem like much else to do. We were home again, in fragmented pieces, crawling through a quiet house, facing a vacant crib and trying our damnedest to keep our heads above water. Out of the emptiness, there arose this inexplicable need to do something, anything to pass the time. In one way, getting inked was no different than all of the road trips and restaurant hopping we did in those early months. It was another reason to get out of bed.
The deeper meaning, of course, was that we wanted to etch Margot's
existence onto ourselves in the most permanent way possible. We went
with a simple design, two circles for each of our children at the time,
something profound for us but vague enough for the rest of the world. Stella and Margot, sisters, equally important, equally present in our beings.
After Leo was born, I added a third circle. Kari went with something more complex...