Long Overdue Stories, pt.2

An Open Letter to Baby, Almost a Month Old

Wondering a little how you fit into the cogs and wheels of the world, what good your little words could possibly have against the bold IMPACT type of America and its steel doors, you might one day be disheartened and think that you are a tiny speck on a tiny planet. You are here, and will be gone. Right now, you're probably asleep, because from what I hear you're still in that whole phase where you're not very fun. You are incredibly beautiful, though, and I was amazed at the softness of your skin. I thought about how tough the world makes us, the things we do to our insides and outsides to keep up with the rolling wheel of reality. You were warm against my tummy and smelled strongly of baby powder. I was lulled into your spell and was tempted to think all babies must be born like this, perfect and sweet-smelling, until I saw my sister apply it freely during one of your changing sessions. Yeah, I saw your Mom change your diaper. I haven't had that dirty pleasure yet, but I'm sure my day shall come too. And I will curse at you in Spanish, mark my words.

As you nestled into my tummy and with your warmth and smell washing over me, I thought of my Nanny, the strong backbone of our matriarchal family for many years. I thought of her doing the same thing with me, how she held us the same way and whispered to us with quiet Spanish words, raining trilling RRRRRRs and foreign clicks onto our absorbing ears. I clutched you when I thought of her and I began that same whisper, brought from some deep place inside of me, because I don't want to forget her, to forget those words, or our shared past. Before I was even born, we had long replaced the white-sanded beaches and humid air of Puerto Rico for South Georgia's tripthongs and pine forests, but I wanted to make you see that it's all within us anyway. I wanted you to feel our smells, our warmth in return: the paella, the warm breeze through the palm tree, the seagulls I can't remember.

You will feel so small sometimes, and so powerless against the vastness of the entire world. I want to tell you that this is what's good about the world, that it's so much bigger and grander and greater than anything we know, than anything we could possibly remember.

With so much love,
Your Tío Dean