Listening to 23 by Cleo Sol

I am back. The fog is lifting. I feel my voice slowly coming back to the surface. Consider this January 1st in my world. I am Spring now. Letter's to my Daughter #1.

The year has felt heavy so far, physically because I am heavier, factually because I’m pregnant. Not just carrying any child, but my Daughter. Notice how I capitalise that, because her presence is very felt now. In each and every moment of the last 16 weeks.

As you may have noticed I’ve taken a step back from writing here this year. I have felt creatively blocked. Which is ironic as I am in the biggest phase of creation I have ever known. Creating life, even when I sleep. And so, I started the year with much wonder and vision, energy flooding through my veins as we found out we were pregnant, a whole new purpose emerging, except the world was not as we knew it… Los Angeles was burning, the worst wildfire in history was blazing and devastating the entire county, and I felt helpless, and cautious about stepping out of the house to volunteer knowing I was now responsible for life growing inside of me. I felt confused.

The powerful life force I pride myself in having was replaced with a sort of estrogen fuelled tranquility. I had plans to share more my writing more publicly but as the world continued to burn, I wondered to myself if it even mattered anymore, and if I was simply contributing noise. Inspired by one of my angels Tabitha, and a recent post of hers, I began considering who I was writing to, and what my intention is. Since I started here last August, I have enjoyed the sudden discovery of it all, my life and scenes in Los Angeles, the character’s who have emerged, and the many muses, in all their imperfections, but I can’t help but feel like it was all hurtling out of control somehow. This energy I have been missing was, in fact, an unsustainable force. Now I have you, my container, and a new series I want to start this month, with a softer edge.

“Letters to my Daughter” came to mind after seeing Maya Angelou’s collection of essays on my shelf, a copy I picked up second hand a while back, and only now does it feel like the perfect time to read it, and let it guide me into writing my own letters, to my own daughter, archiving memories from my life that I wish for her to read one day. To remind her that I’m only human. That I’m figuring this out for the first time just like her. That I was her age one day too. That I too have dreams I wish to see breathe.

Inside the front cover of the book, I found a handwritten note from the previous owner, who gifted it to her own Daughter, and it warmed my heart to feel apart of keeping up the paper trail of tradition. Today I will write my own note, as I begin my own collection of letter’s, and let this play as the introduction to the series. Here goes.

Hi baby,

This is your Mother speaking to you. My name is Elise, but to you, I’ll be Mum. Or maybe Mommy. We are living in California after all, although I was born in Canada, I grew up in New Zealand, and so did your Father. That’s why our accents sound different to American’s. The day is Wednesday April 9th and I’m sitting at the wooden trestle table in our dining room. I wonder if you will remember this house when you’re my age. I have no idea how long we’ll live here, but let it be known that this was our first home here as a family, on Hoover Street. It’s filled with a whole lot of love. The way the light pours in during the day, it creates a honey glaze to the space. I imagine you occupying nooks and crannies we haven’t explored yet, after all, you’ll be much smaller than we are.

Your Father works away from the other room. The spare room we’re currently calling it, which doubles as an office space, but that might be ambitious as you will probably take it over when you get here, as you should. We haven’t purchased anything for your arrival, I don’t know if we’re frozen in overwhelm at the sheer amount of things the internet tells us you’re going to need, or if we just love a tight deadline, because in reality 5 months is quite a long time to prepare for your arrival, so it doesn’t really feel too pressing just yet. We planned our wedding in about 3 months to give you an idea of how we roll. Your parents move quickly you see, we make a good team, the two of us. Soon to be three Maybe I’ll tell you more of our love story in in the coming months too. For now the most important thing is doing things that bring me energy so you feel inspired inside.

I want you to enjoy the time you spend in the womb. I am conscious of every tear I cry that you are feeling my pain as well, and that’s a new responsibility I’m not taking lightly at all. Thank you for making me love myself even more actively than I had permission for previously. So while we haven’t bought anything you might need yet, you are being deeply considered and how we live our life has been lit up in an entirely new way. Your Father has taken to starting his own business, it came about the same week we found out, you were 5 weeks grown, the fires were wrecking havoc, and he started raging in a way that only a provider would, a sense of urgency to create the most abundant nest he could. Everything he does is to keep us both safe and happy. You will learn as you grow up that this type of selfless Dad is a true blessing. Never to be taken for granted. You will learn that the type of love he and I share is one for the ages. I would like to tell you about when we first met, and all the adventures we have shared since then, over the last, nearly, 10 years together. I will save that story for another letter too. I have a lot of writing ahead of me over the next 5 months, and that fills me with joy, as writing is an activity that gives me so much energy.

I am so curious to see who you will be and become. What creative impulses will fulfil you. Maybe you’ll be a mathematician. Marino (that’s your Dad’s name) has taken to teaching you counting over the last nights when we have retired to bed. Using each of the fingers on his hand to gently tap 1 through to 5 on my belly. He’s excited to teach you everything he knows. He has much knowledge to share with you, about the natural world, of the practical tools that help us to live on this earth, and ideas of the spiritual world as well. You are so lucky. He can tell you about the history of the world, conflicts in the middle east and what’s going on in politics (although I wouldn’t go there right now, it’s a bit depressing). He can teach you to identify any native plant or animal that you cross paths with, and how to survive in the wild, he even knows how to bake bread. He’s a man of many talents. You’ll soon see for yourself.

Something I read in Maya Angelou’s “Letter’s to my Daughter” last night struck me, she was speaking about her Son, and I will paraphrase her words to speak directly to you. She said, “My mother caused me to develop enough courage to invent my life. I learned to love you without wanting to possess you and I learned how to teach you to teach yourself”. That’s all I could really dream of, to create an environment that inspires you to feel courageous and loved. For you to realise everything you need is already within you. The dance, the words, the song. All of the things that I love, and which move me, are yours to be held and enjoyed too. If you want them. I will teach you to express yourself, however feels most natural to you, and encourage you to keep doing that, even when the world presses down on you, and makes you feel like the safest thing is stay small. I can assure you taking up space is your birth right, angel.

How you take up space is entirely up to you. The world is your stage. Whether you want to build it or strut across of it, I will always encourage you to show up, and that’s my vow to you. I cannot wait to meet you baby girl. You have filled me up, made my skin tighten and stretch, and brought clarity to every moment, knowing it’s now a moment shared. I love you and I hope you enjoy these letters I promise to write for you. I will read this one aloud to you now.

Thanks for choosing us little angel. Do you know you’re the 3rd generation of first born females on my side of the family. You will be a force. Reminds me of something else Maya Angelou said. “I never had to spend one minute regretting giving birth to a child who had a devoted family led by a fearless, doting and glorious (grand)mother. So I became proud of myself”. You are lucky enough to have two grandmother’s. I hope you become proud of you too.

Your Mother, Elise x