Monday, 10 March 2008

• My Little Girl

  Froth and foam like Irish lace trimmed the shoreline. Sea oats nodded like grain back in a sparse Ohio field. I can paint those scenes, still, from memory. Back then her long brown hair hung down her back, straight and true. I, however, preferred her hair pulled up into a top ponytail, the rest cascading downward like a shiny mudslide. She was unique in many ways. For instance her eyes changed colors from birth onward to about twelve or thirteen. At birth her eyes were gray as prairie skies. They began to transition through brown, green and finally hazel, ringed as it were like a far off planet. And she could turn brown as mahogany with just a few hours in the sun.
  
  Yesterday I saw a seagull circling a shopping center parking lot, no doubt blown off course by the snowstorm. It triggered a synapse where these memories are stored, perhaps. Then, way back when, we made sculptures on the sand. Once we made a full sized alligator, so life- like a little boy ran to his mother in terror. Years ago and far away we frolicked on a stretch of beach in the white sand of Florida's Gulf coast. The dunes looked like the piles of snow hills left by the aftermath of the big snow. Even now,, in my minds'-eye they glisten like some Giant’s sugar bowl. But back in the day (and probably still, she was a born   athlete. She could out run me like a fleet Arabian filly. Oh, and she had her own horse, Dusty who lived in the backyard. She was a natural rider. She rode bareback if she pleased. The only rule was not to ride the woods alone because in the northern parts there were wild boars. But I suspect that she did with the kids across the street who had ponies. They sometimes were feed dog food (the ponies not the kids) if they ran out of anything else. They somehow lived and were as roly-poly as big fat bullfrogs (the ponies, not the kids.)
  
  It was obvious to the most casual observer that she had special gifts. Once a surf pro wanted to teach her to surf, but I said, "NO!" She was fearless but I fear only two animals, the alligator...but most of all the shark. The only time I ever heard hear cry out was once when she went to the mailbox and was set upon by a mound full of fire ants. They are aptly named as they are said to sting like blazes. She once went parasailing (without my knowledge when she was staying with relatives.) They cut her hair too; I did not speak to my sister-in-law for a long time. But my little girl had many, many adventures which I shall let her tell you herself.
  
  But in my "remembery" as my grandson used to say, it is always bright and sunny. When bad times come, I can open a passage in my mind and go to another day and time. I can restore my joy and enter a place of peace, shutting out all the unpleasantness and experiences which sometimes plague the present. I can hear the echo of her laughter, high, and clear, ringing with delight. (Remind me to tell the elephant story one day if I haven't already.) She has since grown into a wonderfully multi-talented and compassionate woman. I see her reflected in the expressions and good behaviors of her children. Today, I pity all the ones too young or too poor of spirit to have a place to go inside themselves where love grows, still sharp and sweet. I adore my fully grown daughter, my one and only, first and last born. And while I am so proud of her and love her so... yet  I miss that little girl...and I always will.

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