Mother

I.

Her smile honeyed warmth

Wraps around me

Stretches her love-shield, dresses wounds

Soft kisses all better

Uncries my eyes

It’s time for Sesame Street and pureéd broccoli

The little one is scared of the big world

And crawls into her mother’s lap

Buries her face in the safe warm floral patterns of her dress

Looks up into chocolate sweet eyes

Remember when, ostrichlike, i’d bury my head in the couch

Thinking no one could see me?

But you always knew where to find me.

II.

Virgin goddess running through thickets

The hounds fast on her heels

Lets out a wild call into the night

Limbs flying eyes blazing

She stops to shake out the moonlight

Then she sees him. Watching her

For once she does not react.

He was different.

I’ll let you catch me.

Just this once.

You can see the wild in the little one, can’t you?

III.

Little fat baby reaches for her mother’s face

Tries to pick fresh olives from her smile

Shiny perfect cheekbones grin down at

Little chubby girl.

She laughs and reaches for the fruit again

Little golden girl playing in the sand

Runs away skipping from the eager tide

Wraps her tiny body around Mommy’s calf

Dances in the showers of sunlight that fall from Mommy’s hair

See these eyes? They’re not tired.

Will you read me a story? I want to hear the one about Hazel again

IV.

Little good for nothing trouble maker

in her green velvet dress holding the hamsters

I know they’ll probably just fight

But I’m going to see if they’ll play nice this time

Little finger got in the way of angry rodent teeth

Drops of red on green velvet

But didn’t you always know you were it for me?

Little ballerina in a pink tutu jetês across the floor

Zig zags her way to the beam and smiles

I may be just five but I understand

That mirror is actually a window and

Mommy is watching me from the other side

You can see it in those big blue eyes

V.

Mother sitting adding figures on her machine

Little one tries to learn the keys

Mommy’s very busy, Honey, I’m keeping your Dad organized

Little one wishes she were as smart as Mommy

Little one draws carefully

Copying her t-shirt…a scuba diving Snoopy

New baby draws all over Snoopy

Little one starts to cry

Mommy takes the white-out

See? All better

Little one sniffle-smiles

Skinny girl blonde ponytail runs and runs

But can’t seem to ever get to the ball

Mother watches, yells GO KATIE GO!

Yells Oh my God that girl is twice her size!

Yells I love you!

VI.

Mother is a constant, a count on me, a safety,

a soulmate

a sunshine.

Mother is a puts on my dress. A pick me up when they knock me down. A wipe off the gravel and clean the cuts. A kiss on the forehead. A song. A face the world. A pair of wings.

A little bigger one presses the keys and Mommy sings

Even when the girl messes up Mommy always finds her place in the song

Like it was her own heart

A girl is digging rivers in her backyard.

Once again the poor hamsters are part of the plan

Mom comes out to see the progress

Saves Frisky from drowning

Even when I fought you tooth and nail, I always knew you were right.

VII.

Mother’s eyes go back centuries.

Soulful, huntress gaze.

She watches time crumble empires

Sees the evil in the world and vows in her

Deepest heart to protect her little girl

A girl gets kissed on a hammock

The whole next day she knows Mom knows

But when she confesses it turns out to be a surprise

A girl sees red for the first time and cries

Mom barely conceals her joy

As she cradles the shaking shoulders

It’s ok you are a woman now

You are now among the lucky and proud

A girl grows up building sandcastles in her eyes

A mother keeps a watchful distance

She will always know when her daughter needs her.

this can't be good for my health

Hey all. This is a tad bit strange, since I probably don't you, but I imagine this is kind of like meeting someone random at a party where you're supposedly acquainted with everyone. In these situations I just tend to talk excessively in an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness which usually leads to me discussing something inappropriate and/or personal that is probably not included in the limited realm of "casual party conversation." And that's the point where I just start chugging Corona and pretend I wasn't actually saying anything. It usually works. Hopefully I'll have more sense than to do that here, but we'll just have to wait and see.

The truth is, I used to have a blog. It was in '03 (well I think I started it in '01 or something, mid high school, but it met its grisly end in early '05). People generally liked it, which's good, I suppose, though at the time I was so entrenched in D-nial and los angeles (straightsororitygirl) bullshit that I can hardly recognize my own prose. There are a couple of good entries in there, but I'm not going to link to them because that would lead to everyone finding entries that I wish had never existed in the first place.

Part of the problem with that blog was that it represented my then-absurdly high level of trust in the inherent goodness of humanity and (very misguided) belief in the fact that no one would intentionally try to fuck me over, especially not through my writing. Then someone did, in fact, use my writing against me in order to fuck me over. This led to my sorority (I know, I know, just understand I was in the middle of erecting a complicated facade) getting in a lot of trouble. I mean a LOT. Purely by accident did I incriminate them, I might add. Who knew that making us drink jack daniels while dressed in leopard tights was hazing?? It was fun! (fun? really, katie? really??)

Regardless, I had to stop that blog (which, by the way, was not actually about sororities, though admittedly and embarrassingly tainted by their omnipotent influence), and suffer the consequences of free speech in a dictatorship run by women who've inhaled too many tanning bed solvents. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I've always been a writer, that really never changed. I just finally realized that while my life continues to remain in this bizarre purgatory between student life and "the real world," I should probably do something with myself and my free time. Plus cocktail waitressing really stresses me out (as stupid as that sounds, it's the truth, for some reason my brain is much better at abstract literary analysis than remembering that someone didn't want salt on their margarita). Plus I'm really different now. Like, really. This is what all the cool UCLA grads do anyway, duh, despite the fact that "cool UCLA grad" is probably an oxymoron.

So, in an attempt to validate my existence, and because I'm suffocating under the noxious vapors of 1) LA smog, 2) post-grad depression/ennui 3) insatiable anxiety and 4) a general sense of idealistic restlessness, I decided to start a new blog. Because it's just one more thing besides facebook and myspace to distract you from your responsibilities...consider it a gift. l'chaim!!

-katie