Author’s Note: My granddaughter Hannah had her twenty-first birthday today.

 

I remember the first time

I held her in my arms,

A tidy, bright-eyed package

Neatly bundled, the mouth

And nose properly arranged

Above the pale dollop of chin,

Modest ears astride the skull

That grew a rufous garden

Of fine, unmolested hair.

 

I made faces, silly noises;

She didn’t laugh, or even smile,

But steadily gazed,

Unafraid but puzzled, maybe.

By the nonsensical nature

Of the world that she entered

So abruptly, no warning,

No explanation for the rude

Expulsion from her warm

And watery sanctuary.

 

It was no surprise that

She became a mermaid,

And swam away one day,

Into the deep embrace

Of a world that I could only

Watch with my feet sunk into the sand

With the tide slipping over my toes,

Splashing up to my knees

Until I ran in terror of a vision

Of small bright eyes and tiny fingers

That wrapped one of mine

With a strong grip, the force

Of a place hidden from my mind

That could not see all there was to be seen,

Could not hear all there was to be heard,

Could only make a face, and speak

A few nonsensical words.

 

© Dennis Hathaway

 

[return to POTD index]