Letter to Daughter XVIII

Here I am, Mumma, on a sudden rainy afternoon, in the middle of an utter nowhere, comforted in the aesthetics of warm lights and loud paintings, and trying to decode what conversations could probably take place without my presence. But then I thought, writing to you is better, and why don't I do that instead? Tell you that Momie has come here to sell herself as a story-teller, and little love, I cannot tell you how, just how awesome it feels to say aloud, "I am an author."

I have been cheating, cheating on my soul by not writing the tens of stories that unfold each day under my nose. Here I sit, books surrounding me, and animated characters smiling from the covers. It is so nice to know that you could befriend any, or all of them in a while! Remember that book Momie and you had coloured together? That two-coloured book My Tree Book or something? Sweetypie, all around me is a palpable possibility to yield more such pages, for more little people like you, who could colour trees red and the fruits in them, blue.

Today I write to you so that you know, when you eventually do, that Momie is Writing-Panda! Things are never an accident, honeytus. And they will never be with you too. I will prove to you. Remember how unwilling you were to go to Aunty A's house? You even puppy-eyed me to a point where I could have said no, but at that moment your favourite toy fell off your hand and broke to bits? It lingers like a picture in my mind. Before you could cry, I took you up in my arms, and out of the house we stromped, where I bundled you in the small car we then had, and rushed to Aunty A, before another mishap would befall us. 

Who would have known that she had in her pocket kept the best-kept secret, your best friend, Tucker? Tucks would have never happened, love, were it not for him taking to you. And look at where we are now -- a complete family between Tucks, you and me. The toy had to break, for a real-life one to make its way. When other people buy Momie's books, sweetheart, you will be able to say, "My Momie, Booker!" (if only awards came that easy), and then they will ask you if you write too.

This letter attempts to teach you to say "No". Clearly, if not aloud. From the beginning, and the bottom of your gut. Do not allow anyone's doubts to hover arout you, nor their discouragements. If you wish to colour an elephant's ears pink, go ahead. That would be the only time when you might be feeling like it, for all you know. Satiate your desires till they satiate you. 

Carpet your voice only so no one can sweep it off. For while carpets look gorgeous on the ground, we know they can take off too! Sunsets happen by the watch, sunrise in a coffee mug. And if anyone dares to laugh at you when you say so, rise your chin, raise your volume and tell them, "Don't just read a book, write one!"

For Momie just did, all about you!

Kisses,

Momie.