Prolifically Raw: What You Believe

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

What You Believe

Belle and I are painting, princesses and peace. Her art is one princess after another, long hair, big eyes, surrounded by flowers, unquestionably feminine. Mine is abstract, colorful, peace in your face, peace hidden.

�Baa boo doesn�t believe in princesses,� she says in her high little girl voice, laced with sugar and a kind of whimsical sadness.

�I do,� I say. I turn from my own palette and give her a big eyed googily stare. �I�m looking at one right now.�

She smiles with the abandoned delight of the egoless. Her eyes shine with happiness.

Our background music is Sun King off the new Beatle�s Love album. The Sun King is being played backwards and it�s so cool and haunting and strange.

We both go back to our painting.

Next comes something in the way she moves, attracts me like no other lover and Belle is giving me her own version of googily eyes. Her paintbrush is up in the air, loaded with paint and then she says, �I believe in mothers, I believe in you.�

I forget everything, the music, the paint, even time is shoved aside. I, loaded with ego, am as delighted by this child as she is by me. One in the womb, one in life, a miracle of magic, mother and daughter. How have I been so blessed?

We do another round of googily eyes and without speaking we are saying: I SEE YOU! It�s the only gift I have to give her, other than her lovely and safe life. I see you, Belle, I see you!

The music is you�re asking me if my love will grow, I don�t know, I don�t know and we turn our backs on each other again, going back to our creations.

�You believe in princesses and I believe in mothers,� she says to her painting, whimsical again. �We believe.�

�That�s us,� I say, �we�re a couple of believers.�