Happy Birthday, Cecilia Jane
You continue to drag your spirit into this world, this body this life
You delight me from your laugher to your lay downs
You are a force. You are perfect.
.
A little helicopter pod spins and twirls and flutters like a honeybee. Thrown in the air again and again by tiny fingers learning about air and motion and life and death. They snap the seed pod in half and clip it to their nose.
“I’m Pinocchio “, they say.
What are you lying about little one? Have you finished your dinner and your chores before Ice cream? Are you sure you brushed your teeth? If your nose is going to grow, was it worth it?
The seed falls to the ground, and the child runs off to tag their cousins. They move on from this moment into the moments that build memories over years.
For the seed, it hopes to burrow in, down into the ground where it sprouts and roots and builds memories. It hopes someone will step on it to secure it before being blown away. Many feet that day come close enough to kick it up an inch to the left and back again.
The seed dreams of where it will land, what it will become.
When the rains came, the feet ran for the house and Seed found its place. She stretched in deeper with each drop, out of sight of the air, bringing her own scuba tank’s worth for the trip.
Seed cocooned wondering what changes were taking place. Who would explain what it means when she breaks open and stretches spindly hair from this one-winged vessel. Who will remind her she is beautiful?
She decides it doesn’t matter if she’s beautiful or who knows it. She doesn’t want to be weighed down underground anymore and climbs her own way out. Because sometimes it is only you, you have to rely on. She pokes out, shy at first, into the dangerous world. Afraid of those who sniff around, afraid she’s made a mistake. Every day she learns a little more, grows a little taller.
One day she senses a worm inching along a branch, tickling as it goes. She stretches to make a crook for a bird’s nest where eggs wait to be hatched. Humans come to climb and explore. She is a pirate ship, a rocket ship, an island surrounded by lava.
No one has to tell her she is beautiful. They are drawn to her beauty. That is enough.
She is more than a butterfly. She is a tree. She is perfect.
10-16 400 words, typos fixed.
