Baby Websites - Devon's Journal

Your Mother... by your father

...excert from a book by Dad...

Well what is this piece of writing exactly you’re probably wondering… something to explain to me my own mother? Of course I know her; I know everything about her… she made me for goodness sake! Well that’s not quite it… see I was on my home from London where I’m working on a project for work and having to spend a bit too much time away from mom and from your relentless kicking of her belly… I love feeling your wee feet kick away and try to break free from the confines of flesh. I imagine this beautiful little baby, full of artistic energy and ideas… desperate to get out into this world of ours and make some changes, inspire others and generally live life to the fullest. Of course in reality you’re probably just a wee thing with transparent skin and little muscle tissue, only just now realising the abilities of touch and hear.

Anyhow back to the point… mommy is also working on a project and despite a bit of fighting to be in London at the same time as me, we only got to cross paths for about 5 minutes. Just enough time to kiss mommy and to place my hands on the belly where you live, grow and develop. Those 5 minutes were so precious for me. They were minutes which last hours in the memory- just seeing her, and feeling you… these are really the happiest days of my life thus far. As I travelled home, I spoke to your uncle Hamu about the future, his job prospects and his life going forward. It made me think of you and the future ahead of us all. It also made me think of my past. What if my father had written a book about my mother around the time I was born? My god… I’m not sure that would be such a great thing in hindsight due to their particular relationship… but it would still be a way for me to see my mother in a different light. In our case it’s different I think, at least that is something you should realise by the time you finish reading all this. See, your mom and I have something very special, very different about us and our marriage is often commented on by others who notice that difference. Our love is the kind that you will read about in fairytales and such… well sort of, nothing really is that perfect, but imperfection is a perfection of its own. As Leonard Cohen once said (you will become very familiar with him J)

There is a crack, there is a crack in everything… that’s how the light gets in.

In other words, life’s little glitches are what make it beautiful. There is no beauty without ugliness, there is not excitement without boredom, and there is no constant state of love without hiccups of dissent. It’s not realistic to expect it. Love is something very hard to describe, love is accepting that the person you love is perfect for you… not perfect, but perfect for you- even the stuff that annoys you!

Anyhow this is a gift for your mom and a gift for you all in one package. Hopefully my writing will ensure that it is a gift and not a curse of obligatory boredom inflicted by a mean old daddy. You know what my little one, this is the easiest writing I have done in years, so perhaps it is actually a gift to me as well, the gift of speech once more after the corporate entities have dulled my voice with writing silly little documents about address changes and duplicate Investors, trust me the less details I go into on that the better for you! You know I’ve written all this from Oerlikon to Thalwil? Wow… that will mean something to you one day I think… unless of course I have made millions and persuaded your mom to move to Mexico. Not too likely, but could happen eh?

Back to mom. Who is mom? OK she’s the lady who fed you and clothed you and loved you and yelled at you and was near you every minute of the day for years… but who is she really? Let me try to tell you in my own words. Let me try and flesh her out for you. The only place to start when talking about your mom… is with your grandfather. Strange you’re probably thinking… how does grandpa define mom? Well actually your probably thinking ‘garble gook wacka fling’ just now as your brain is probably still developing… but I am projecting forward to when you’ll read this… then you might be thinking… what does grandpa have to do with who mom is. The answer is simple. Everything.

Babba

I’ll start with this the same way that I start with everyone about this topic. Babba has an aura, a sphere of influence around him which simply exudes peace and harmony with this world. Very special people have this aura, for me, my first glimpse of Babba was something akin to meeting Ghandi. This small man with such a huge soul and essence exuding almost visually from him. To meet him is to know he is special. Your mom knows this better that anyone and to speak of her father around her is to draw pure emotion from her heart. She simply lives to see him, to feel his presence and his opinion means more to her than any other word that could be whispered. Fortunately Babba is not quick to provide judgement, his patience and politeness extends to his assessment of a situation.

Nada’s dad… what to say about him. He has seen the world, he has experienced this world and the wisdom of the years rests in his body. To sit with him for an hour is to immerse yourself in the knowledge and wisdom of our world. He is calm like Buddha, strong-willed like Attaturk and knowledgeable like the true scholar he is. To be with Babba when Nada is around is to understand the true meaning of the word love. Not love as in a wedding couple getting hitched in Vegas, but love as in earth shattering, devotional Shakespearean dedication and exuberance LOVE. This is what I expect your mother to have for you. Your mother loves deeply, she loves few, but she loves to the core of her being with those lucky enough to be given this love. You can see it in Babbas’ face when she is around- it is life being fed to him through his eyes and ears, you can also see it in the words I write now… this book is a dedication to the love Nada gives to me. For your mother, I am like her father, but I personally think this would be a very hard level to try to live up to… it is a lot of pressure to be expected to be that good. I try.