To My Someday Daughter.
Even though she is still dancing with God, an idea tingling in the consciousness of my mind, I have placed some items for her inside a box, a box weaved out of my know-how and hard knocks, containing a crown, a pair of rain boots, a compass and my mother’s wedding gown.
The Crown to remind her that she is regal, coming from a long line of matriarchs. Strong women who she may not find in the history books, but have given enough to this world, one C section at a time, so greatness is embedded in her DNA. And when she comes to me wrapped in insecurities, I will remove that blanket and fold it neatly under my love then tell her not to allow a five-letter noun curb her happiness. “Baby girl, don’t get lost in the emptiness that society has given the word beauty, you are worth the skin you were given” I’ll say. Then I will place that crown on her head and let her know that she is a constellation of my greatest achievements.
The compass, so that she can always find her way back to me. And whatever the complexities of this world may be that make her stray from me, I will still love her unconditionally. That kind of love the Sun has for the Moon, the kind that knows no bounds, that is not constrained by time or space. And she will laugh anytime she hears the sky is the limit because I have taught her to see as far as galaxies. We won’t always be together but with that compass she will find me always, in that place, where I have built my home, somewhere between her heart and her mind.
The Rain boots, I will implant in her the ability to walk in storms, and when the rain plummets with the fierce determination of a thousand scorned bees, I will tell her to root herself so securely in those boots that she will remain as unshaken as a tree. I will teach her to remember that after every rainstorm that has been, promised a rainbow. “So baby girl, look at every downpour really, as a transition toward your rainbow. I know it won’t be easy, lemon squeezy, life will knock the wind out of you leaving you wheezy but I’ll be there to remind you to breathe” I’ll say.
My mother’s wedding gown, with all the lessons she taught me about love & marriage intricately sewn in like glass beads reflecting deeply into her subconscious. “Most importantly, baby girl I hope your father teaches you all that I can’t, all that my mother couldn’t teach me. I hope that he dances with you through life, twirls you around like a princess into the hands of the right partner” I’ll pray. I will teach her that it’s okay to fall in love and trust another human being. But I’ll tell her to wait because it means a little more, and make sure he’s the one that rocks her core. She alone will know when she’s ready to store, my mother’s wedding gown for her daughter.