As a young kid living
in Bridgeport in that
crummy tenement
on Huron Street,
I would play house
with my precious Barbies,
and dream of having a
beautiful baby girl one day.
She was going to be fiercely
courageous, and a fearless
female warrior, who
unlike me, would laugh off
all the scary stuff.
From the moment I held your tiny hands
on that wondrous 2/24 morning,
I thanked God for your beauty and
the warmth and security
you provided me.
But I also prayed that one day
those munchkin hands
would hold power and might.
And also, on that February day,
I must confess
I had it in my head
that I would mold you
into my image.
A mini-me. A mini-Teri.
That’s how I pictured you
in my head, full of dreams.
You, the fierce one
who hated Barbies
and pulled their heads off
sometimes using and gluing
their cut-up hair as ground cover
for the Seven Dwarfs.
Snow White was
nowhere to be found.
Or the time you ate an entire week
of birth control pills at 6 am
and when I called Dr. Hain’s answering
service, the operator couldn’t stop laughing.
And when I yelled out your name
you hid behind that ginormous
breakfront in your bedroom,
after dangerously pulling it away
from the wall,
fish tank and all.
Dr. Hain called back to say it wasn’t
as serious as the time
you drank Calamine Lotion.
My rough-and-tumble baby girl,
dressed up like an angel in white lace,
barreling over Temple chairs;
your dress almost over your head,
exposing your diaper-wadded tights.
I rolled my eyes, but I felt love so big
it almost exploded my heart.
And speaking of diapers,
I was convinced that you would still
be sporting them in High School.
In pre-K, when I pulled out your
Monday, Wednesday, or Friday
underwear, you screamed out,
“DIPES!”
You were my little typhoon,
with your flyaway hair
sticking straight up
to the sky.
My badass peanut,
who picked up
a fleeing house mouse by the tail
and cradled a dead crow.
You weren’t anything
like I dreamed
you would be
back in my Barbie days
when I was holed up in
that squalid
railroad apartment.
Bridgeport would never
have scared you.
My tomboyish girl
who was afraid
of nothing.
You have far exceeded
my naïve myopic mini-Teri
molding dream I was working
so diligently to achieve.
The love I have for you is limitless,
and I am hands down
your biggest fan.
It is no surprise to me
that you,
who always thought
out of the box,
would take my work to a
whole other level.
I have never been so happy
to have my work undone
because you have
taken the dream
and smooshed it all up
Ariel style.
Remarkably,
with strength,
tenacity,
and conviction.
You are no dream.
You are my everything.
