"Ladies of light and ladies of dark and ladies of never you mind--This is a prayer for a blueberry girl."
Nor and I have taken to reading and rereading and reading one more time for good measure Neil Gaimen's Blueberry Girl. It starts with a beautiful picture of a reclining redheaded woman, almost 9 months of babe in her belly. Nora points and says "Mama." I neglect to tell her that I looked more like the planet Mars with a small pimple of a head on top. And then she points to the belly and grins. "Nora."
"Keep her from spindles and sleeps at sixteen, let her stay waking and wise. Nightmares at three or bad husbands at thirty, these will not trouble her eyes."
I venture into asking her what she remembers about growing in my belly.
"Warm," she says plainly.
What was it like when you were born?
"I was really sad. I cried a lot. And then I had milk, strawberry milk."
"Words can be worrisome, people complex, motives and manners unclear....this is a prayer for a blueberry girl."
When I ask her if she is a blueberry girl, she tilts her head and grins with astonishment. "No! I have no costume." A strawberry girl? She just shakes her head. Silly mama.