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
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