When You Get Here

A lot of the clothes I have for you will be too small.
Already.
But they’re just clothes.

And it will be your first spring in central Texas,.
Bright and green in March, with wildflowers raging
that those fools in Chicago can still only dream about…

You'll wear the sunglasses I've already bought to shield you from the dazzle.
And next year, it will be spring again.

You’ll begin to understand what it means to be catered to.
Just you.
Like you exist just to be played with, loved, and held.
Gazed at in amazement.
And that devotion will never, ever leave you.

And you’ll hear music. Real music. For the first time.

I’ll start you out slowly…
old Otis Redding, Roy Orbison, The Louvin Brothers…
You will listen to it. Learn about it. Gradually.
I cannot wait to see
what sort of rhythms and melodies
make your bright eyes focus and lighten.

Oh my little girl,
I hope you will someday begin to comprehend how much
and how intensely you were wanted and loved
before you even got here.

And while I waited,
all there really was, was music.