The Beviad–musings, mutterings and myths

TALLIS AT ONE

Tallis
Is gripping my fingers
And running
Chasing the cat
Down the hall and into the living room.
My back is breaking as I lean over her
Letting her run;
She is like a puppet that has
A mind of its own
And wants to escape
But I hold onto her
Firmly

Still clinging,
She leans away from me like a sail
Filled with wind,
Ahead of her own wee feet,
Her pink shoes pattering softly
On the hardwood floor.
And then, suddenly,
She lets go of my fingers
And, before I can catch her
Walks on her own.
She has done it before but
It is always amazing to see

Even if, for now,
She walks like Frankenstein’s Creature
The one in  the book,
Not a monster; but an innocent
Learning to walk
Out into the brand new morning.
Step, step. Step, step.
Each step a venture,
A balancing act:
First testing the floor
Then teetering onto
The other foot.

Only, in her case, she is so beautiful:
Her hair bright as a new penny,
Her little flowered dress
Puffed around her ankles,
Her sweet voice calling, “Cat! Cat!”
She toddles away from us.
And we  call out,
“ Tallis! Tallis!”
“Come to Gramma!”
“Come to Mama!”
“Tallis!”
“Tallis!”

At first it seems
As if she will totter on forever–
Chasing the cat
Out of the room
And
Out of the house
And
Out of the garden
And
into the world beyond,
Rushing headlong out of our reach
Forever.

But then she turns
–Almost losing her balance–
Steadies herself,
Her little face aglow
–So beautiful!—
Pauses
And grins at us
As if she has been teasing us all along.
And to our infinite relief,
(And that of the cat)
Totters back
To our awaiting arms.