If I should have a daughter ~ BY SARAH KAY If I should have a
daughter, instead of "Mom," she's gonna 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 going to paint solar
systems on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire
universe before she can say, "Oh, I know that like the back of my
hand." And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard
in the face, wait for you to get back up just 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. So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't
coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the
cape all by herself because no matter how wide you 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; I've done it a million times. 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 she will
anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate
and rain boots nearby, because there is 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 look at the world through the underside of a glass-bottom
boat, to look through a microscope 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 of
the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to
save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots will
fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment.
And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say
thank you. Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way
the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how
many times it's sent away. You will put the wind in winsome, lose
some. You will 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 from one to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive. But I
want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. 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 momma is a
worrier, and your poppa 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 threes 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 refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing. And when they
finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under
your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism
and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your
mother