If I should have a daughter
Sarah Kay
If I
should have a daughter, instead of "Mom," she's going to call me
"Point B," because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at
least she can always find her way to me.
And I'm going to paint
solar systems on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire universe
before she can say, "Oh, I know that like the back of my hand."And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.
There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry. So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried.
"And, baby," I'll tell her, "don't keep your nose
up in the air like that. I know that trick; I've done it a million times. You just smell for smoke so you can follow the
trail back to a burning house, so you can find the boy who lost everything in
the fire to see if you can save him. Or else find the boy who lit the fire in
the first place, to see if you can change him."
But I know she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra
supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, because there is no heartbreak that
chocolate can't fix. Okay, there are a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't
fix.
But that's what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash
away everything, if you let it. I want her to look at the world through the
underside of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the galaxies
that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind, because that's the way my mom
taught me. That there'll be days like this. ♫ There’ll be days like this, my momma said. ♫
When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters
and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very
people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots
will fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment. And
those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you. Because
there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing
the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away.
You will put the wind in winsome, lose some. You will put the star
in starting over, and over. And no matter how many land mines erupt in a
minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty naive.
But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so
easily, but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
"Baby," I'll tell her, "remember, your momma is a
worrier, and your poppa is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and
big eyes who never stops asking for more."
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. And
always apologize when you've done something wrong, but don't you ever apologize
for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing. And when they
finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and
offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that
they really ought to meet your mother.
