prayerful of dreams - 2008-06-28
preschool princess - 2008-06-16
life with my sweetheart - 2008-04-29
the fast approach of four - 2008-04-12
lighting up my own life - 2008-03-08
2003-03-17 - 2:14 p.m.
little shiny girl, all pink and frills, and a halo of tumbling blonde whimsy curls, little scraped knees and chubby tan arms, with fat little folds, and the solid mass of long bones taking shape, disappearing the little baby growing into a giant toddler with strong stance and the determined defiance of a stubborn lil lioness, softened with the language of an endearing baby lisp, reaching up with pleading arms to be held, and kissed. Wanting to go with her papa, when he asks her if she would like to go for a ride. and so they do, little girl skipping, holding on tight, climbing up the sides of the hot car, scrambling to get in, white ruffled socks folded down, and little white sandals, oh, so proud she is, to sit next to her papa, not able to see past the dashboard, bouncing in the car, on scorching vinyl seats, no seatbelt for baby, on this hot summer day, in 1972.
This is my first memory. papa, my very first memory is of you.
and how special and wonderful you made me feel on that day, and every day since. The years flew by and we shared so many car rides. Fittingly, it was you who taught me to drive. and sometimes I look at my hands, circling the wheel, and I see your strong tapered Italian hands guiding mine. I see my mothers hand, in the shape of mine, and I see yours in the shape of hers. Our bones are fused. Our blood runs clear, telling the secret's of our family name. I am my mother's daughter, she is her father's little girl.
Oh Papa, you are no longer here. You have left this mortal world. The last time we went for a drive, you said aloud that it would be your last. The air was pierced with a palpable sadness that penetrated us both. My eyes shut tight, upon hearing those words, I wanted so badly to fight-to somehow save you, for the little girl in pink, whose very first memory is of riding in the car, with her papa- so proud. You would take me out to lunch, my feet tap tap tapping on the hot florida pavement in my little mary janes, falling forward, catching myself by holding onto your powerful hand, my shadow skipping along beside us, racing to keep up, with the long stride of your steps. Everyday was a fairytale for in your eyes, I was the precious little princess who could do no wrong.
and you told me you would never leave us, even when you were gone. We had to give you permission to go, we needed to let you hear the Bright angel's song. When your breath was disappearing, I slipped my hand in yours, and for the first time ever, my hand was bigger than your's. We had to tell you to go, papa, I am so sorry that we asked you to go. Please forgive us. You were my very first memory and my very worst memory is of losing you. but somehow I know, that from the heavenly vista, where you sit, you watch over us all and I pray that someday you send me a sweet little cherub girl who's tiny hand will slip inside mine. and if you do, I promise that I will take her for car rides, and teach her the shape of my hands, in the shape of my mother's, in the shape of yours, in the shape of life taking shape inside us all.
old starlight - new starbright
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