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Monday, March 21, 2011

point b

the first four minutes are must-watchable. or read below.

nstead of “mom," she’s going to call me “Point B.” Because that way she knows that no matter what happens at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m gonna paint the solar system on the back of her hands, so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “I know that like the back of my hand.”

She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.

There is hurt here that cannot be fixed by band aids or poetry. And the first time she realizes that Wonderwoman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows that she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Cause no matter how wide tou stretch your fingers your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me.
I’ve tried.

And baby, I’ll tell her, don’t keep your nose up in the air like that. I know that trick. You’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.

But I know that she will anyways. So instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby. Because there’s no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay… there’s a few heartbreaks that chocolate can’t fix, but that’s what the rain boots are for! Because rain will wash away everything if you let it.

I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat; to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind. Because that’s the way my mom taught me: That there’ll be days like this. There’ll be days like this, my momma said.

When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out ff the phone booth and try to fly, and the very people you wanna save are standing on your cape. When your boots are filled with rain, and you are up to your knees with disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say Thank you! Cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shore line, no matter how many times it’s sent away.

You will put the “win” in win some, lose some. You’ll put the “star” in starting over and over.
And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called: life.

And yes. On a scale of 1 to… overtrusting. I am pretty damn naive. But I want her to know that this world is made out of suger. It can crumble so easily, but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

Baby! I’ll tell her, Remember, your mama is a worrier, but your papa is a warrior. And you are the girl with small hands and big eyes, who never stops asking for more.

Remember that good things come in 3(s) and so do bad things. And always apologize when you’ve done something wrong, but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes never stop shining; your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing.

And when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you handouts on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.


  1. I LOVE this post. You are going to be an amazing mother :)

  2. wow. I started off thinking I'd just watch those first four minutes, but then I was hooked! great find!


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