Since age 14, I have penned about a dozen journals full of poetry and prose. Like other dusty memories, they’re buried in a box somewhere in my garage.
As far back as I can remember, I loved the feeling of a pen between my fingers. I reveled in the plunk-plunk-plunk of the typewriter; I even took up calligraphy, making my own quills out of found feathers and permanently staining my hands with India ink. Words have always been a part of me; and now, as I near thirty, it’s clear that the written word has become my best friend.
Speaking of dusty memories, I stumbled upon a poem my mom wrote for me when I was nine, maybe ten. Upon reading it, I realized that I owe my linguistic bent, my passion, my entire career, to this woman. She possesses a talent so rich, so raw, I hope to one day claim it as my own.
Thank you, Mom, for teaching me—by example—how to write.
My Little Girl
I’ve been blessed with many things
But the most precious are those that aren’t
You are the precious one that came into my world
And you’ll remain therein forever.
You have touched my life like no other
For in darkness you became part of my being
And in turn, I became part of yours.
I reflect back when your life was new,
Wishing I could turn back the hands of time,
But I can’t even make them stand still.
So, the memories of yesterday will have to do.
Memories of you safe in my arms
Loving me, unconditionally, like no other.
I rejoiced and shared in your milestones…
Your first smile that grew into your first giggle,
Your first word spoken, your first prayer offered,
Your first tiny step that turned into your first long run,
Your first sentence read to your first day of school.
I rejoiced over these and yet I cried,
Because I came to the painful realization
That my little girl wasn’t so little anymore!
Together we learned that life isn’t a bed of roses.
Yes, we had and will have our share of hard times,
But we continue to learn along the way.
The little things you do mean so much…
Your little hand in mine; the smile on your face;
Your notes and letters of affection for me;
The thoughtful things you do and say.
All these I can undeniably live without,
But, with you, I undeniably can not.
Do you know how much I love you, honey?
More than words can ever say-
Yet, those words bring color to my paper
Like you bring beauty into my life…
…I love you, Amber.