May 30: Beginnings, Daddy/Daughter Date, "In the Beginning"

On this day of my daughter's graduation, I've been thinking a lot about her beginnings.

I'm taking my daughter out to lunch in a few minutes.  Some place local where she loves to eat.  It will be just her and me.  A daddy/daughter date.  She will probably order breakfast, just like me, even though it will be past noon. 

Saint Marty isn't quite at the graduation party yet.

In the Beginning

by:  Martin Achatz

Celeste rolls on the carpet
like dice that won't pause
on green felt, won't give
me the satisfaction
of 3 or 6, 1 or 5.
There is too much in her
knee-and-wall world to touch, too
many snakes with cardboard wings,
neon troikas plastered with words--
apple, cow, star.  When I speak to her,
she studies me, tries to unravel
my dictionary of sound.
Can I teach her to love language
the way lightning loves redwoods?
What will her first word be?
Will she shock me
with hamster, fridge, triangle?  Will
she point out the window, say
wind?  Will she sing the world,
the way Christ sang when He slid
from Mary's iron-taut uterus,
tasted her blood, saw Joseph radiant
with sweat?  Will Celeste's mouth open,
flood waters pour out, 40 days
and nights, preparing the world
for the rainbow of her tongue?