A shiny poem for Liv for National Poetry Month

In honor of National Poetry Month, I took a moment this morning to get inspired by some of the writing that we've blogged about this month. Here's a quick poem that, I hope, symbolizes my incredible love for my daughter, my experiences as a parent thus far, and some observations about this chapter of lives before we hit our teen years. Maybe, someday, I'll read this to her at her wedding and she'll begin to understand my love for her is deeper than the ocean.

Setting Sail
by Julie Dennehy, for Liv
4.12.13

She stepped one threadbare, Sharpie-embellished sneaker into the sailboat
The artfully chosen "worst pair" was her new fave for sailing.
The same sneaker we just bought for back-to-school, it seems.
The same sneaker, now exhausted, spent from a year in perpetual motion
A sneaker awkwardly out of proportion to her prepubescent body

Her foot stomped on the bottom of the boat, one foot still on the dock, and
Her physical universe 
Her own personal higher spirit 
Her grandparents in heaven
Her totally awesome summer camp boating counselor
Her love of wave theory and music
All converging, like a Greek chorus of omnipresent mentors 
Guiding her to

Go slow, baby, 
Survey your surroundings
Take your time, get grounded or 
You will lose footing, fall in, go under.
Breathe deeply, smell that salty air, feel the ocean's power
Eyes up to the stars
Moving forward, always.

So she did.

She floundered, then found the connection between the
Motions of her still-growing body, the pounding waves, the solid hull, her rubber sneaker's treads
All merging in time
She instinctively whispered to herself
Steady
Steady
This isn't YouTube, this is real life
Steady

Her mother cringed, still on the dock holding her backpack
Her father was in the boat, and instinctively shot out his hand
While she dangerously wobbled, hips shifting, overcorrecting...
He snatched her hand, fast, hockey goalie instincts
Just like he caught her so many times before, 
Before she connected with the
Angry corner of our pine coffee table
Gaping stairwell entrance, the one without a baby gate
Pebbled, dirt-encrusted driveway, eager to conquer her two-wheeler

"DAD! I GOT this... omg!"

She glared, eyebrows raised, eyes widened in pre-fury pose,
Then her Greek chorus sang
And she smiled sweetly, a full day of sailing ahead,
Slid her still-childlike hand out of his
Simultaneously, swiftly 
Swooping her second Sharpie-festooned sneaker 
And backpack
Up and into the rented sailboat, hand-eye coordination and balance kicking in.

With found footing, chin up, eyes to the horizon, she said,
"NOW what?"

Not posed. Liv was convening with the ocean. Saco, ME 2008 (age six, pre-tweendom).