The insurrection came. The impeachment came. The inauguration came.
And then along came Magnolia. Reluctantly.
(Who can blame her?!)
My young friend became a mother last Sunday night. She delivered on her promise. (“I’m gonna have a baby!”) She produced an 8 pound, 6 ounce girl. Greer Magnolia. A star was born.
(“Sugar Magnolia!”)
It wasn’t easy. No birth is. But some are harder than others. This one was really, really, really hard. The promised one had a mind of her own.
She ignored the due date memo.
(“You will be arriving at platform B on January 14.”)
She bided her time, sheltering in place.
(“It’s safe in here! It’s scary out there!”)
She defied the tug of nature.
(“Slow down. You move too fast. Gotta make the morning last!”)
She dug in her heels against induced labor.
(“I hear you knocking but you can’t come in!”)
Facebook posted hourly briefings. Hundreds sat on pins and needles, chewing on fingernails in a virtual waiting room.
But she couldn’t hold out forever, twiddling her thumbs backstage. That’s not the way it works. The stage is lit. The curtain is up. We can’t hold our breath forever. You’ve gotta come up soon for air, baby. We want to hear your song.
And just like that (easy for me to say), there she was skimming through rays of violet, wading through a drop of dew, gulping the air of this wild and wonderful world.
I’ve baptized a few babies in my time (including Magnolia’s mother). If I could hold them all in my arms again, I’d whisper in their ears the words of Kurt Vonnegut.
Hello, baby. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. On the outside, baby, you’ve got a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, baby—”God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”
That’s a good rule for babies. That’s a good rule for children. That’s a good rule for parents. That’s a good rule for everybody.
The insurrection came. The impeachment came. The inauguration came.
And then along came Magnolia blooming in the sunshine.
(“Come on, honey. Come along with me.”)
Hope is abornin’ in our nation. Birth is never easy. Sometimes it’s really, really, really hard.
But the stage is lit.
The curtain is up.
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See Paula’s photo “Tree Spirits” on the home page. Posted Jan. 31