Friday, March 16, 2001


Baslow has had occasion, previously, to remark on Rulizow's emotional reserve in some areas. One of the ways in which Rulizow is reserved is with respect to Public Displays of Affection toward her parents. That's okay; we do not doubt the affection. We don't require that it be displayed in public.

So Baslow is restrained, himself, in saying goodbye to his daughter at the bus stop, where Rulizow's friends and classmates from the neighborhood are gathered. He bends over and briefly kisses the top of her head. She then runs off to board the bus.

Baslow tries to pay attention to his daughter after she boards the bus. He peers through the windows, into the dark interior, to determine which seat she is in. Then he stands in front of the window closest to her to make some farewell gesture. Lately he has been taking his cap off his head and sweeping it in front of himself as he bows slightly.

It is hard to see inside the bus but Baslow can make out that his daughter sees him. She has, the past few times, been doing something with her hands, by way of response.

Baslow could not imagine what she has been doing. It has seemed like some ritual hand gestures associated with the clapping games Rulizow used to love to play.

This morning, however, Baslow had a clearer view into the bus. He could see that his daughter was not performing a hand-clapping game. She was using the little bit of American Sign Language she's learned to gesture: "I love you."

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