Cerebral Combustion
Of seraphims and cherubs, an ode to my daughter
I have been with you all the time but when another day passes by and I put you to sleep, I don't think that what I have done is still enough. It's simple: you just make me want to give you all that you need with everything in my might. I am happy, you finally made me and it's not too easy. I have given you life, but on the contrary it was you who made that to me because you saved mine. Your tears are my heaven, my most bliss, because it means that you need me and you will be alright. My love as vast as I can never imagine I am capable of loving, all of that, what I feel, will comfort you. You know I love you to death and surely beyond and after that. My sorrows are drowned in your smiles, my pain-inexistent in your embraces, my love all yours. You shine on me, like a rainbow, only brighter and brightest, there is no way it can be better than that. I kiss you and you kiss me, cherubim kisses-of reds and the same hues. Penguins appear and blue whales, and all the little silly marine creatures I am dearly fond of. Your kisses are made of that--you make me twirly happy. You like what I don't, I am amused, and it makes us a little different. Yet very the same, we like watching at the same moon. Time flies quickly, but with you there is enough to hold in our hands and go after what our hearts desire. You are one beautiful soul I may soon be after, only right now, you are ours--you are cherished, you are loved, you are above and nothing else can matter, you are time, you are a dream reborn, you are mine. In my arms, HE entrusted you to me brightest star, you are. I really love you. Listen to my yearning heart, my little paramour; I am full of you and of everything that you make me shine with. You are my echo of serenity-made of whispers and gentle coos and late night snores. I like awake at your side just to listen to it. As you wish, you will be blessed. I'll never make the same mistakes, to myself I vowed. No second chances. Keep me in your voyage to life. I promise I will be ever gentle. To you Yoko, blossom as you sail. Neverlands and such-- in a heartbeat, I will be right here.
Yoko is my daughter, Akira Yoko to be exact. My husband and I happily named her after John Lennon's Yoko, and Akira sprung from somewhere I hardly remember. The name is kind of eccentric, between me and him I am more inclined to be that, nonetheless we liked it because it is kind of cute—Japanese cute. A year and three months after, the name is just as cute as the bearer. She grew fast-- now walks and talks, sings and dances, counts numbers and watches favorite kiddie shows on television. I am persuaded of the fact that all mothers will be pleased by fast growths but I am not. I love babies and I miss her being that. Helpless fragile creatures you have to handle with precise care and nurturing. I was her only source of breath, metaphorically speaking, and I have become an expert in that foremost field of motherhood. I might not have another child, not out of choice, I would like to have one more girl, but I fear that if I go through the same ordeal of laborious child birth, my life will be cut short and that will be the end of my parenting career. So much has changed since then, since I had her. I cannot fathom the thought much less imagine my life without her. She is a gift to me and I am blessed. As I write this piece, an hour before midnight, she waits for me, we sleep together, no matter how early or late, she patiently hangs around until I am done, and that simple thing instantly makes me feel unbroken. And what joy it is, she is like an adult trapped in a baby's uncorrupted body. I have done very little for her, she is not yet a grown up who doesn't entail a lot of work but what she did to me in return is beyond innumerable. In retrospect it was not at all uncomplicated, rearing a child. But at the end of the day, hard work is paid off, twice more, or thrice, and even higher than that--something infinite. How apt it is to say your child reinvent the world for you. I know because she is a new life who gave my own a new one. One look at her, my own flesh and blood, I become someone else, and I become her. She is waiting and it's time to rest now; this writer is foremost a mother.