As my dear friend Lynn always used to say. I believe James Taylor may have said it first. Oh, how Lynn loved her James. And who doesn't?
If one were to attempt outdoor fucking here today, it would be a soggy business. It is still raining, on and off and it was thus when Jessie was born. A rainy day with breaks in between and Mr. Moon and I would walk, walk, walk the streets of our neighborhood to get that labor going, to move that baby down and a magnolia offered its blossoms into the reaching hand of my man and he plucked it for me and we brought it home and when he left for work this morning I said, "Bring me home a magnolia blossom," and I hope he does. I like to think that the fragrance of the magnolia is viscerally imprinted on Jessie and that it means life and light and love and sweet mama's milk to her.
Lynn was there that day, as were so many of the people I loved. When I think of the perfect home birth, Jessie's is right up there.
I am happy today. Just purely so. I am letting the rest of the world take care of its own sorrows and troubles and letting myself just accept all of this right here, the celebration of the day when our family became complete, the child was born who has grown up to be Jessie Moon, wife of Vergil, player of mandolin, always-dancer, Mean Aunt Jessie, my back-pocket baby, the wonderful mama-baby nurse, the giggling girl, now woman.
Born of love, bringer of light, my Jessie whom we gave the name of her beloved grandfather who was named for a beloved aunt.
Happy birthday, girl. And thanks for making our family complete, our world what it is which is more shining and glory-full, just as do all of your siblings, and now your nephews.
Twenty-five years of your joy and your juice.