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| Illustration by Anne Bollman, illustrator and surface pattern designer at Anne Was Here |
Long, dark lashes lavish her cheeks
Thicker than the blinkers on a baby doll they open, shut, open, shut
Fluttering daintily like French folding fans over the round, rosy apples, ripe
with a smile
Her lips turns redder when she cries, making the
perfectly-carved cupid’s bow perched prettily upon her precious pink pout
particularly pronounced
She has soft brown eyebrows, arched artfully over a pair of dark,
round eyes—the whites crowded out by shining black irises…still deciding upon their exact shade and color
Adorable and expressive, they’re set close and cute like a Pomeranian
puppy’s
She pants—it’s always been something she’s done—silly
girl—but now she does it in response to the question, “What does the puppy
say?”A whispered, “hehh, hehh” instead of “woof, woof”
Not the most common response, but I like it that way
And what does the duck say?
“Kak, kak,
kak”
Sometimes she reminds me of Donald Duck—it must be that raspy,
high-pitched voice, garbled
by spit and snot and the inability to properly talk
Because she’s only fifteen months old
Sometimes
I scold
Like when she throws food off her tray, toys in the toilet,
and books off the balcony
of our third-floor abode
I could tell from her infancy that this sweetheart had spunk
Head snaking
back and forth like an Indian cobra, torso twisting like a sea salt grinder, shoulders
shimmying like a pair of maracas, nobody had to teach this child to dance
She’s passionate about eating, shoving fistfuls of blueberries, bacon, and bread into
her open-mouthed head
Chomping on orange Ramen noodle packages as if she never got
fed
Sitting on cereal
boxes swiped from
my cabinets
I give her a cracker instead
She accepts the snack graciously
Eyes squinted
shut
Chin jutted
forward
Beaming brightly through jack-o’-lantern teeth
Four
on the top, four on the
bottom
All I want to do is press her petite, button nose
And there she goes
Spraying my
face with dry, golden crumbs
They get on the carpet
I’m compelled to vacuum, but I’ll just pick them up
Pinch them piece
by piece and sprinkle them into the trash like fish food over an
aquarium
Rub my hand over the floor ‘til the too-tiny traces scatter like jumping spiders
But not now
Now, my hands
hover over a standing, smiling sumo baby, wearing nothing but a diaper, pink
socks, and the elastic band that holds her hair up high like a topknot.
“The Wild Onion” is what her ring name shall be
Because every time I look at that hairdo, I think of the papery brown skin that sticks
straight out of the top of those slippery, savory, multi-ringed bulbs
Laying her over the cracker crumb carpet
In teasing undulation, from pinkies to pointers
My fingers wave
like sea anemones above her fidgeting frame
They tickle the tummy with its cute, puckered navel
Looking like the bottom of a balloon
“Tee-ka, tee-ka, tee-ka!”
I blow
Raspberries and
kisses that wrinkle the nose
Choking out chortles, she hides behind knees raised high and
pearl string toes
Shielded by socks worn like sleeping bags
Pushing past their heart-shaped grips, I press my lips above her hips
And along the crinkly white diaper line
Until she pulls my hair
Touché,
bay-bay
Getting to know this feisty little fighter is more fun than I can say
Shaking my head at her love for the laundry room and how she
shrills “hi-ee” when waking
up from sleep
She grabs my shoes by the heels in one hand and drops them at my feet
Chirping, “Ba-bye?” (Always chirping, “Ba-bye?”)
I wear them while I’m cooking, while I’m getting ready for
the day
Until it’s finally, really time to go outside and play
She stacks her toys in conspicuous corners, behaving like
it’s business
She prefers quick hugs and back pats over long snuggly, cuddly sessions
Arising to her giggling voice is always an adventure
Winking,
blinking like my monitor
I get up to go and fetch her
As I watch her diving to and fro, face first into her blankets
I find myself wakefully wondering which hidden traits she’ll show
On this new
day how she’ll grow
Talents and
treasures untold
How I love watching the layers unfold
From this sweetie
full of spice
This dear one in my life
My Wild
Onion
Follow Anne
Bollman, designer and illustrator, at:
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@AnneWasHere1
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