"We were talking about her daughter, my co-worker and I," I was telling my friend while she sat in the livingroom, still in her restaurant-worker's clothes, holding her seven-and-a-half-month-old girl whom I tell everyone I know is my god-child (of course I would--I have loads of pictures of her in my phone) but not really because there's a line-up of loved ones both friends and family members who would kill one another for god-parental rights. I imagine myself on that reality show The Gauntlet battling it out for this little kid.
"Yeah," I went on, "she told me once she had her baby girl, her entire perception of the world switched off of who she was before her child, to who she would become because of her. Like, she said she had almost forgotten entirely all she had done or all she was before this new focus entered her life. Then, it was all about her little girl from that point on."
"That's just about right, ain't it, Moo?" my friend said (although I wish she would call her daughter by her real name), holding her little one close while the baby tugged her father's sleeve trying to distract him from his college work.
"She's right, you know," my friend said. "I don't think I'm the only one who belongs to myself anymore. Now, it's all about Moo." She looked at her baby girl and grinned. "I mean, having her is like having a little Christmas present. Aren't ya, sweetie? And it's just like you know the present is there, and you spend all day thinking about it and when you'll get to open it. You leave home and when you come back, there it is, all wrapped up, ready to open. And once it's open you realize what a wonderful gift you have, and you just wanna play with it all day long, but you have to leave again, and it's sad, you know? To leave your gift behind. Sometimes the gift can get on your nerves or something, and you just wanna stop playing with it, but once you're away from it all day, it's all you can think about while you're away--but you remember that someone really nice who was watching your gift rewrapped it for you so that you could enjoy that same Christmas morning all over again." She chuckled loudly enough to startle the baby from her bottle (Moo went right back to chugging madly). "'I have a little iPod!' you scream to everyone you know. Moo! My whittle iPod Baaaabii!" She laughed and tossed the infant over her shoulder, and rubbed her puny back to calm her down so she could burp. My pretend-god-daughter grabbed her mother's neck, and let out a joyous cry.
By Cassondra Ellis
Columbus, Georgia
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As far as peeps go, you rock. Write on! Write from the soul! Dr. L
ReplyDeletethats really good cassondra! keep up the good work.
ReplyDelete- your cousin
Dear Cassondra (and Lovely Mylene),
ReplyDeleteThank you for giving us a perfect windowseat from which to sit and peer out into the world.
Love the line: Sometimes the gift can get on your nerves or something ... So fresh to think of a gift that way. -- Michelle Lee
My favorite line is " . . . and you spend all day thinking about it and when you'll get to open it."
ReplyDeleteLove your writing style, Cassondra! It's very relaxed and in the moment. You present yourself quite subtly but it's obvious your soul runs far deeper than can be seen on the surface. I was totally caught up, completely THERE as I read this piece. I felt as though I became the girl who claimed this precious "god-child" as her own. ~ Don't stop writing! Keep sharing the gifts God gave you...You have such talent and are a blessing to us all! ~ Bec
ReplyDeleteYour prose style is much like the spoken word versus traditional English style, which has always set Americans apart, as the last commentor was writing, and it is very calming and leaves the reader focused on this gift that seems so real even though the baby's only action has been to start back eating, and we also get no true description of the baby, but you make it so it doesn't really matter, these details, because you offer a different vein of understanding about what the narrator is going through in his/her own understanding of what a true gift might be.
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