IfIshouldhaveadaughterSarahKayIfIshouldhaveadaughter,insteadofMom,she’sgoingtocallmePointB,becausethat’showsheknowsnomatterwhathappens,atleastshecanalwaysfindherwaytome.AndI’mgoingtopaintsolarsystemsonthebacksofherhands.Soshehastolearntheentireuniverse,beforeshecansay,“Oh,Iknowthatlikethebackofmyhand.”Andshe’sgoingtolearnthatthislifewillhityouhardintheface,waitforyoutogetbackupjustsoitcankickyouinthestomach.Butgettingthewindknockedoutofyouistheonlywaytoremindyourlungshowmuchtheylikethetasteofair.Thereishurt,here,thatcannotbefixedbyBand-Aidsorpoetry.SothefirsttimesherealizesthatWonderWomanisn’tcoming,I’llmakesuresheknowsshedoesn’thavetowearthecapeallbyherselfbecausenomatterhowwideyourstretchyourfingers,yourhandswillalwaysbetoosmalltocatchallthepainyouwanttoheal.Believeme,I’vetried.“And,baby,”I’lltellher,don’tkeepyournoseupintheairlikethat.Iknowthattrick;I’vedownitamilliontimes.You’rejustsmellingforsmokesoyoucanfollowthetrailbacktoaburninghouse,soyoucanfindtheboywholosteverythinginthefiretoseeifyoucansavehim.Orelsefindtheboywholitthefireinthefirstplace,toseeifyoucanchangehim.ButIknowshewillanyway,soinsteadI’llalwayskeepanextrasupplyofchocolateandrainbootsnearby,becausethereisnoheartbreakthatchocolatecan’tfix.Okay,there’reafewheartbreaksthatchocolatecan’tfix.Butthat’swhattherainbootsarefor,becauserainwillwashawayeverything,ifyouletit.Iwanthertolookattheworldthroughtheundersideofaglass-bottomboat,tolookthroughamicroscopeatthegalaxiesthatexistonthepinpointofahumanmind,becausethat’sthewaymymomtaughtme.Thatthere’llbedayslikethis.(Singing)there’llbedayslikethis,mymommasaid.Whenyouopenyourhandstocatchandwindupwithonlyblistersandbruises;whenyoustepoutofthephoneboothandtrytoflyandtheverypeopleyouwanttosavearetheonesstandingonyourcape;whenyourbootswillfillwithrain,andyou’llbeuptoourkneesindisappointment.Andthosearetheverydaysyouhaveallthemorereasontosaythankyou.Becausethere’snothingmorebeautifulthanthewaytheoceanrefusestostopkissingtheshoreline,nomatterhowmanytimesit’ssentaway.Youwillputthewindinwinsome,losesome.You’llputthestarinstartingover,andover.Andnomatterhowmanylandmineseruptinaminute,besureyourmindlandsonthebeautyofthisfunnyplacecalledlife.Andyes,onascalefromonetoover-trusting,Iamprettydamnnaïve.ButIwanthertoknowthatthisworldismadeoutofsugar.Itcancrumblesoeasily,butdon’tbeafraidtosticktoyourtongueoutandtasteit.“Baby,”I’lltellher,“remember,yourmommaisaworrier,andyourpoppaisawarrior,andyouarethegirlwithsmallhandsandbigeyeswhoneverstopsaskingformore.”Rememberthatgoodthingscomeinthreesandsobadthings.Andalwaysapologizewhenyou’vedonesomethingwrong,butdon’tyoueverapologizeforthewayyoureyesrefusetostopshining.Yourvoiceissmall,butdon’teverstopsinging.Andwhentheyfinallyhandyouheartache,whentheyslipwarandhatredunderyourdoorandofferyouhandoutsonstreet-cornersofcynicismanddefeat,youtellthemthattheyreallyoughttomeetyourmother.Thankyou!
