Do you remember how I sprung
into the world as an uninvited guest,
but was greeted warmly by the nurses in blue,
And your coarse hands?
How my father’s welcoming whispers burned the
tips of my ears red?
Do you remember how my big eyes mocked
and laughed at the blur of faces
that swarmed around my tiny pink socks?
How they pulled my mouth into a curl,
and stretched their ears to hear my first word?
Do you remember how as a toddler
I managed to puzzle all
the best puzzlers
without opening my mouth?
How my silence was an enigma
that surrounded CT scans
and white-clad doctors?
Do you remember how I sang
loudly and proudly as I
twirled my purple baton?
How you anxiously shouted
for me to get on the bus
that was already pulling away?
Do you remember how I pulled
out of your warm arms,
away from the smiling kids?
How I chose to be alone,
surrounded by imagination?
Do you remember how I followed
the boys with dark hair,
daring to not speak?
How you watched us
from the wide window
smiling at my shyness?
Do you remember how I frowned
and turned away from colorful laughter
that your friends carried?
How you looked at me angrily,
knowing that you would later
scold me privately?
Do you imagine your daughter
speaking in rippling waves,
in front of a sea of people?
I swear to you,
I will get there.