"Then something happened — something utterly ordinary in the grand human scheme that had an extraordinary impact on [Sarah] Manguso’s private dance with memory and mortality: she became a mother. She writes:
I began to inhabit time differently. […]
I used to exist against the continuity of time. Then I became the baby’s continuity, a background of ongoing time for him to live against. I was the warmth and milk that was always there for him, the agent of comfort that was always there for him.
My body, my life, became the landscape of my son’s life. I am no longer merely a thing living in the world; I am a world. […]
Time kept reminding me that I merely inhabit it, but it began reminding me more gently.