Sula Pearl you are 11 months old. And a few days. It is hard to believe that you were just a handful of pounds in my belly not long ago and that this time last year we were preparing eachother for what was to be one of the most profound journies of our lives. You and I, my daughter-friend, we experienced what a gentle birth was. We lived a peaceful birth. We were blessed with what the Italians call Dare alla Luce. This phrase literally means to give to the light. In Italian it is the way to say to give birth or to be born (and a powerfully beautiful way of saying it in my opinion) I think that’s what we did, we birthed some serious eye squinting, face warming, irridecent—like the moon’s shine bouncing off a fresh pearl– light. And as your midwife said of you and your birth: it is what birth should be like. And because you were allowed to come to us softly, consciously–you will always possess that birthing light within your heart, you will always have a great responsiblity. Dare A Luce. Sula, we have given eachother a great gift. I celebrate your 11 months. Happy Birthday, girlfriend.
You really can scream. Today at the Ojai Coffeehouse I basically had to leave. You weren’t screaming and crying. Oh no, then I’d feel sorry for you. You were just screaming for the dang hell of it. Screaming at your sister as she sipped her chocolate milk. Screaming at me because I wouldn’t let you continue to eat a napkin. Then you just screamed…with a big 4-toothy grin on your face. Screamer.
You tug on my nipples. I hate it. They are long and stretched out enough. But your tan little fingers continue to pull, usually when you are nursing on one side. And guess what happens when I tell you no? You scream.
Your grasp of the English and Spanish language is impressive. It helps to be the only English speaking family on this farm. You say:
Hi gog (dog)
nigh-nigh (night night)
and the post popular with the general public: Oh Wow wow wow wow. (this was your sisters first phrase, too. I apparently say it all the time.)
You and I have fabulous conversations. I can see you are going to be a social butterfly, too. Just like your sister. You love people and try to talk to them wherever we are. You two girls have made me social. It’s a good thing.
A woman at the park today asked if you knew sign language. I think you might be picking up a little here and there. SHe mentioned you had really good control of your hands. I never really noticed that before but she’s right. Those little fingers can move in a lot of different ways, you like to express yourself with your hands and fingers whern you talk and play. A true Pisana. It also leds me to believe that those hands will bring you to your dream/purpose. A musician. Artisan. Healer. Craftswoman. Just mama’s intuition.
Your skin is so brown I am sure many wonder if your dad is really your dad. I have been asked you if are Asian or Puerta Rican many times. Now that your hair is growing in (sort of) a light bronzey brownish blond…you seem to display more of your Arian genes.
You like to brush you hair with a soft brush. You’d let me do it for hours. It is the one thing that calms you and gets you to just sit still.
You cruise by knees and hands and feet. Standing here and there on your own. But the desire to walk is pretty low and in my book—that’s fine. I don’t mind dirty knees. You help clean floors.
Your favorite foods are bananas, frozen peas, bagels and sand.
Your sweet, seductive, sneaky, sincere smile melts me. woes me. knocks me on my butt. I am in awe of this pure beauty you possess…as it comes from somewhere beneath the surface of your humanly mask. It comes from a place I am not sure I have ever been. I see it as a place to spiral to, to jump in and the darkness and surely I will find the pool of light you come from. I think you were sent to take me there, to laugh at all my fears. Teach me.
Your eyes three quarter moons and shaded like desert earth…grayish clay mixed with the brownish of dry dirt.
Diddlediddlediddlediddlediddle is your favorite song.
Dancing girl seems to groove seriously with 70’s hipppie rock like The Dead and CSNY. And you really liked Fleetwood Mac the other day when we rocked Mystery To Me loud on the turntables. Your bass-heavy dad won’t believe he has a guitar centered music lover. You need flowing skirts and hairwraps. Bells on your fingers and rings on your toes. Maybe even a tie-dye.
Though you like guitar music we are convinced you will be the drummer in our family band. You do have heavy riddims and will find any surface that allows to express your beats.
You have my ears, my eyes and my feet.
You have your very own special purpose and the intriguing thing about you Sula, and we noticed it from the beginning but now more than ever—you came out knowing that purpose. You will not need to search as much as I did. Or as much as your dad. Or as much as your amazing big sister. I hope to guide you. I really hope to guide you well.
Blessings my Sula! You rock. Rock. Totally Rock.