Christmas Eve. Strange that today would have been my father's 73rd birthday. And this morning began by hearing our baby's heartbeat on the Doppler. Strange this thing of departure and arrival. I can only picture the old man's face at the news of a coming grandchild. Of hearing those tiny butterfly wings the first time.
And it started me thinking how my child might know the world in which I grew up, so many of its once familiar landmarks already gone...so much of it already foreign to me.
I want to wish all who read this the very best of holidays.
* * *
How you'll know me
A father's poem
If you find a city of steel
mountains shading sleepy luncheonettes
Know that I walked here
If you find a night of neon
kisses in a garden of saxophones
Know that I loved here
If you find a river of iron
legs and a thousand wooden ladders
Know that I prayed here
And in that place
we all begin, under the Heartbeat-tree
Know that I too was held
And was given sleep.