Is this Matha Nay-Cha?

   
        It actually began two Sunday's back when Z had a lovely, magical post that led me to have a magical date with the Little One. She had triumphed over her new Lego-like building set to create these gorgeous little boxes we turned into secret gift boxes, a nice little arts and crafts project, no? 


           We decided to exchange our gifts at bedtime and dashed off to the pier for one of the best sunsets in paradise I've had yet. Vannesa played in a supervised play ground with the most attentive clowns I had ever seen on the job and a scattering of children in all the shades of the rainbow conversing through merriment in lieu of language.  I didn't mind that, as I am an anomaly of sorts, I sat singularly excluded among the couples and sisterhoods of nursing mothers with infants, a stones throw away from singletons enjoying stimulating cocktails and romantic tête-à-têtes. No, I didn't mind at all, because Z's post hand left a feeling of fantastical possibility in me and I smirked as if I knew something no one around me knew, as if all of them were living ordinary lives and I was dancing with fairies they couldn't see (maybe it was the lamppost or her partnership with the Sage). 
           The sun drooped down lower and lower, it's light having a romantic tête-à-tête with the Ocean and the dhows, and sailboats, and fishermen canoes scattered in the water like the multi-colored children, floating with merriment.   I thought of Z's friend Kenny and wondered if he might soon have a chance to meet my grandparents since passed and if they would have a laugh at the oddity of how he has come to be connected to my spirit (because in that moment it strangely felt he was.....connected) and I sent a prayer that they may comfort him for they know the pain of transitioning without your dear Beloved by your side.  Then the sun set and I made a secret wish....

           It was not until the next night, at bedtime, when I was stressed and tired and desperate to put Ms. V to bed (now I know the cause of my stress-it was after all a Monday!!!) that she found one last way to stay up just a little longer, having made a repeat performance of our gift boxes; though this time I did not participate, she still wanted to give me what she had made. I barked something about "for God's sake we'll do it tomorrow!" and immediately felt like SUCH a tool and called her back. 
           She knelt at my feet while I sat on the edge of my bed (kneeling is a sign of respect for elders in my culture but I have never expected it of the Little One, and she has never attempted it before. This seemed a subconscious act) there in the box was a small square children's drawing, with the word MOTHER scrawled across the top.  And I did that thing where you say you're going to cry just to show how touched you are, but don't really mean to: "Awwwww, this is going to make me cryyyyy" and promptly started bawling uncontrollably with heaving and hawing. I could see her big eyes staring up at me with a blank look of....shock? Pleasure? Fear??? I don't know, but I do know that only with the thought that this could very well be utterly traumatizing to her, was I able to pull my sobbing self together.  

MOTHER 

           Since then, the notes have continued (so I guess it wasn't traumatizing after all) as have the unexpected, and frank discussions on which version of the word to use for me.  Since she already had a Mummy, I have proposed Mama (which is what I'd always wanted to be called anyhow).  I never mentioned it here, but the words "I love you" have also, up to this momentous occasion, been used rarely and with great trepidation and only by myself; they often elicited that same blank stare, and I couldn't figure out if it was triggering a past memory, pressuring her to respond with something she didn't feel herself, or scaring her because she didn't believe it was true.  It has quietly weighed on my heart, not being able to freely express this phrase, but I've felt determined to be patient and gentle about it, to not over think it.  Well among the notes, this phrase has taken on official proclamation status and is now being tossed with such frequency (and SUCH sincerity) between us that I wonder how she has held back using it for so long (She is a sentimental wonder that One, and I feel like an awkward doff to her explicit and often public outpouring of affection). All this while, she remained mostly silent, still, and loaded with unspoken thoughts and feelings; it seems, my Little One is fluent in the language of Love.

           If the same can be said for E-N-G-L-I-S-H, that remains to be seen......