FYI. Two years ago Jessica won one of the 5 Under 25 scholarships to the Mendocino Coast Writers Conference. Here is a good example of why.
To the Baby in Front of Me
You don’t know me. I don’t know you. Our paths seem to have
crossed. You’re in the seat in front of
me, on a flight from Columbus to Orlando. I’m sure you’re going to Disney.
Or maybe to visit your grandparents. You
are in your mother’s arms. You are
laughing, even if you were crying, it would be okay. You are in a flying tube. You are allowed to cry.
You’re standing up now on your
mother’s legs. Stand there as long as
you can. Let her be your rock. Your foundation. Grip your tiny toes into her quads. Dig deep.
Leave marks.
You keep looking around.
Observing. I wish the top of the plane
were glass so that you could see all of the clouds. They’re so much prettier when you are in them
than they are from the ground. Well,
they are still pretty from the ground as well.
Your sister keeps peaking her
head back and smiling at me. She’s
reading a book. I hope that she never
stops reading. If she ever needs a book,
you call me and I’ll make sure you get one.
Your sister just handed your dad
a sticker. What a special gift. I pray that he saves it. Sticks in on the car window. Sticks it on his phone. Sticks it on his heart.
You are so very young, too young
to be forming memories. By the time you’re my age, you’ll
have formed so many memories, but you’ll have even more to form. Some of them will be good. Some will make you cry. Most of them will involve your favorite
people, maybe your parents, or your friend, or your first dog. I want to tell
you to form memories of every moment.
But you can’t. I am sorry about
that. Try to remember the small
things. The way your mom’s legs feel
underneath your feet right now. The way
your sister gives the most meaningful gifts, like stickers. If you have a dog, remember the
way it feels when he falls asleep on your feet. Hug him often. Hug everyone often.
When you get older, scary things
might start to happen. Tumors will be
found in your best friend’s leg. You
won’t be able to shower because the floor has MRSA. You will be so scared, but you will never be
alone.
I’m on this flight now, heading
back from college. Heading back
home. Back to my mother’s legs. I’ll lay on the couch with her tonight and my
unshaven legs and hers will be next to each other, with the dog laying on both
of our feet.
You are crying now. I am crying now.
Your sister keeps smiling at
me. And I keep smiling back. She’s missing some teeth. She is not fully formed, but neither am I. Neither is anyone.
The flight attendant is coming
through now. We are about to land. I hope that you enjoyed your flight, but if
it was scary and stressful, that is okay. No one expects you to be able to
handle everything.
For now, all we are asked to do
is to stand on our mother’s legs and take it all in.
