Her Voice When She Sings
Curiosities:
When I mentioned below the shocking curiosity a birthmother might have about her child, what followed in my mind was a litany of questions. I’ve asked these questions over the years in my writing and in the silence of myself:
I wonder what her hair smells like when it’s wet.
What does her laughter sound like?
What does her voice when singing sound like?
What does her breathing sound like when she is sleeping?
What does she dream about?
What worries her?
What is she afraid of?
What does she love?
What brings her the most joy?
Has she ever forgotten how absolutely loved she is?
Has she ever felt despair?
When has she felt lonely?
Who understands her the most, the best?
When she shakes someone’s hand, does she do so with a firm grip?
What does her voice sound like when she’s whispering?
When she prays, does she bow her head? Close her eyes? Clasp her hands together?
What book does she favor above all?
What’s her favorite movie?
When she cries, does her bottom lip pucker out and quiver?
What do her toes look like?
What does she look and sound like when she is angry?
Does she like touch, is she affectionate?
Has she ever been shocked by anything? If so, what?
What is her favorite animal?
Does she hug strong?
Does she take naps?
Which side of the bed does she sleep on and which side of her body?
Does she walk fast, slow, in between?
When she eats, does she savor the food or is her mind elsewhere?
Where does her mind wonder when she’s alone in bed late at night?
What does she think of God?
Does she have a sense of her purpose?
Does she ever wonder about us, about me, about her birthfather?
Does she have any desire to meet her extended birth family?
It may be assumed that the curiosities of a birthmother coalesce around the deepest roots of her original union with her child, but I find that often it is the mundane curiosities that pull at me most. I am reminded that life consists in the simple things, the here and now breath of experience. Every little fact, every observable detail of my daughter is and will be celebrated as gift when it reaches my senses and finally I know her smell, her smile, her voice when she sings.