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When I think of you or of what you could be, all I can know for sure is that you are beautiful. Sometimes I imagine you with a curtain of ebony hair (sometimes it’s red like the sunrise we see as I drive you to school each day) and a stack of books cradled in your arms (sometimes you ask me to read to you— Langston & Lewis & Luke’s Gospel). You say phrases like: “Momma, (Oh, just hearing you call me so!) I hate boys; all I want to do is read,” --A woman after my own heart. But even if you inherit my troublesome, rebellious brown & gold curls, and you fumble with a tennis racket and those yellow-green bullets, a gym bag slung over your shoulder, I’ll still want to spread peanut butter on your crust-cut-off bread, to tuck your sheets in on your little twin mattress, and search for that lost ladybug sock in the dryer (but only because it’s your favourite). I know you’re beautiful; not because of your genes, or because you’re my daughter, but because you’re completely you, and I (already) love you this way.
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Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 9:29 AM UTC
Ode to my Daughter.
When I think of you or of what you could be, all I can know for sure is that you are beautiful. Sometimes I imagine you with a curtain of ebony hair (sometimes it’s red like the sunrise we see as I drive you to school each day) and a stack of books cradled in your arms (sometimes you ask me to read to you— Langston & Lewis & Luke’s Gospel). You say phrases like: “Momma, (Oh, just hearing you call me so!) I hate boys; all I want to do is read,” --A woman after my own heart. But even if you inherit my troublesome, rebellious brown & gold curls, and you fumble with a tennis racket and those yellow-green bullets, a gym bag slung over your shoulder, I’ll still want to spread peanut butter on your crust-cut-off bread, to tuck your sheets in on your little twin mattress, and search for that lost ladybug sock in the dryer (but only because it’s your favourite). I know you’re beautiful; not because of your genes, or because you’re my daughter, but because you’re completely you, and I (already) love you this way.
dorothylynn
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Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 9:29 AM UTC
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