Genesis

Written by Kelly on September 30th, 2009

Tell me a story.

We, my daughter and I, stand on the edge of the dock. Our feet point seaward. We have abandoned our sneakers, left them reckless on the shoreline. Our socks are strewn haphazardly, canvas tongues hang lazy, being warmed by the sun. Our bare feet are side by side and sandy. Pleasure so simple is exquisite.

I use ta be a Mermaid, Momma. I had a tail that made a swishy. Then my Pa put me in his big net. He took me to da land. I now live with you.

My daughter’s legs are Irish white. Her delicate calves catch the sun and shimmer like Aurora Borealis. I am dazzled by this glow. She dances across the dock; a fairy, a princess, a warrior, a poet, a mermaid, a little girl of tender two. She grows large and powerful in the myth of her own creation.

What do dat say, Momma? She points to where someone has etched rough words into the dock, a deep scar against the worn pine.

Jesus was in your world.

I picture the frantic etchings of a thin man with a coat torn at the pockets. He was propelled to get it down, mark this place of public consumption with these words. He had a hunger to tell a story, just not one of his own.

What story do I belong to?

The Irish, the Toltec, the Babylonians, every society both old and new share similar myths. Despite time or geographical location, the same stories of endings and beginnings are painted on cave walls, told as bedtime stories. We are inextricably bound by our words.

Tell me a story, Momma.

I want to build a staircase that my daughter may learn to climb, to ascend the Tower of Babble. I suddenly think of The Epic Of Gilgamesh. ša nagbu amāru, He who saw the deep. I want my daughter to hold the history of words in her mouth. I start to tell this story. But, then I think of Shamhat, the harlot told to bed down with Enkidu to weaken him of wilderness. The origins of storytelling all begin with the evil found between a woman’s legs. I watch my own daughter walk above the water on two legs formed like the brilliant white backs of the necks of swans. I change my mind.

Tell me a story, Momma. Tell me our story.

And so we begin again, There once were two barefooted girls….


14 Comments so far ↓

  1. Sep
    30
    9:02
    AM
    cat

    “She grows large and powerful in the myth of her own creation.”
    Kelly this was pleasure “so simple…” so “exquisite.”

    I can only imagine what it is like to have a daughter. At one time I used to be grateful that I had boys only, sure that had I been gifted a girl I would havefailed miserably – the sins of my mother and all that….

    But as I age I begin to understand all that I have missed.

  2. Sep
    30
    9:27
    AM
    tysdaddy

    “The origins of storytelling all begin with the evil found between a woman’s legs.”

    Um . . . wow. Splendid post . . .

  3. Sep
    30
    9:53
    AM
    Jaden

    You gave me shivers. You tell the story of yourself, and your daughter, and your love… So beautifully.

  4. Sep
    30
    10:16
    AM
    Trée

    This is damn fine writing. Irish white legs, I think, will now forever be a part of my vocabulary. I think that little girl has a wonderful mommy.

  5. Sep
    30
    11:12
    AM
    Miss Ash

    If one day I am half as beautiful a writer as you, I will be satisfied. :) <3

  6. Sep
    30
    2:14
    PM
    Tara R.

    Your stories will be so much more true. The barefooted girls so much more beautiful.

  7. Sep
    30
    2:51
    PM
    starrlife

    I’d like to hear the rest of the story…. beautiful post kelly.

  8. Sep
    30
    3:44
    PM
    Jaina

    I have to echo starrlife, I’d love to hear the rest.

  9. Sep
    30
    4:15
    PM
    madman

    Brilliant as usual. I like the not so subtle undertone that maybe history, or more suiting, mythology can or should be changed to something that suits modern times more than blaming all evil on women, because if that was true Dick Cheney was really Dorothy Cheney. Point being that its time for a serious societal paradigm shitft towards something more of a more realistic equality.

  10. Oct
    1
    6:14
    AM
    A Free Man

    The story’s today, isn’t it? It’s how we live today, that’s our epic.

  11. Oct
    1
    6:22
    AM
    deb@talk at the table

    you have given me beauty for the day… your daughter walking above water… stunning writing.

  12. Oct
    1
    7:52
    AM
    ubermouth

    Great article Momma.
    When you tell your kids bedtime stories, do you read them from books or ad lib them?

    You’re very creative.

  13. Oct
    7
    10:39
    AM
    Mia

    This actually brought me to tears. Not the kind that swell up but the kind that hit full force – right when I read the last sentence. I am a new reader as well and I adore you!
    I tell my daughter stories everyday :)

  14. Mar
    30
    4:06
    PM
    Russia

    Hey very nice blog!! Man .. I will bookmark your blog and take the feeds also…

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