kick

This is the life that’s been cultivated and prepared for you.

A Moses basket, lined with clean linen, is placed beside your parent’s bed.  You will sleep near your mother, so that she will be able to hear your small kittenish cries in the night. Above the basket is a mobile: wooden birds and flowers painted in primary colors. They float at the end of fishing line that your father hung carefully just a few days before your birth.

Your eyes will only see the shadows of shapes at first, and only in tones of grey. Soon the birds and flowers will slowly reveal their electric bright hues, which have no name to you yet. You won’t know that they even need a name until your mother whispers sounds over and over while pointing to them. Blue, blue, blue. Look at the blue bird. Your little fists and feet will kick jerkily and joyfully at the sound of her voice.

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6 thoughts on “kick

  1. I get a “kick” out of this. Reminds me of the song “I get a kick out of you.” I forget which musical it’s from–maybe “Anything Goes.” Brain dead today.
    Hugs,
    Kathy

"... all my lovers were there with me, all my past and futures."

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