Dear Clara, my wish for you today is that you will save the world. No pressure, but this responsibly starts tonight. On Christmas Eve all babies wield special super powers.
(This power also extends to couples in love, puppies, kittens and any furry creature that doesn’t bite.)
You have been using mind control from the centre of your magical orb, bending all beings to your will, but this is something different. On Christmas Eve there is a real chance for wonder, awe and a glimpse of the Divine. Your job is to work in tandem with this mojo.
Each night your great grandmother and I sit in the sparkle of Christmas lights, we are silver haired children delighting in the transparency of the angel shifting colours as she watches over the manger. The TV glows on repetition. I read Patti Smith on my tablet and mom watches Forensic File re-runs. Each night the routine is the same. As the battered corpses pile up, mom becomes mildly indignant. ”This is a fine bed time story!’ She forgets that the show is on at her request. ‘Lets find something else mom.’ ‘No no! Its a ‘who dun it’ and I need to know who dun it!’
Many nights our ritual is happily broken by a quiet tinkle announcing a new gem in my messenger box. Jazmine (your mom) sends us glimpses into the fairy world that is Clara via random images and video clips;
Your first time rolling over appears to be a herculean effort and produces a sound track worthy of champion weightlifter.
One of your first consonants comes in the shape of a Parisian style tiger roar.
We watch in trepidation as you struggle, stumbling and teetering and finally execute your first pull up.
Joyously, we see your first Christmas exploration. Your fingers touch the ornament on the tree with the delicacy of a ballerina.
We watch these gifts over and over.
Clara, if you had arrived looking like Tom Waits, I would still have been blinded by that amber glow about you, my breath stolen. From the moment of your arrival, those cerulean eyes were wide open, observing us from your secret place next to God. That’s what startled me the first time I held you, the sense that you were in transition between this world and the last. In your eyes I could see the divine and feel it in my own body like a drug. Maybe this is a release of endorphins or serotonin, but it still feels like mainlining God.
So your mission, if you should choose to accept it, will be to join forces with the spirit of Christmas and simply hold someone’s gaze until they experience the power of this night. On Christmas Eve, everyone who holds a baby, a lover or a furry creature has the chance to experience the Divine and awaken to the best natural law;
every bit of love that we toss to others will bounce off the heavens and come back three fold.
I’m looking forward to the transformation my world will undergo during the next spin around the sun. It will be a thrilling experience, no doubt interlaced with ‘who dun its’ and punk poets.
Merry Christmas. xoxxo Nanny A.