2021 theme: RUPTURE

THE JOURNEY OF A MAGNUM OPUS christy claymore Holding you for the irst time was akin to seeing DaVinci’s sketch after seeing Michaelangelo’s sculptures: so many wonders in one day left me a little numb, a little unsure of how to take in one of the best pieces in the whole of the world.

And so I held you day after day, looking and looking to ind the feeling I should feel, but it turns out that awe blows you open like dandelion seeds never to be caught except by the wind, uncatchable itself. And so as you ran today and I heard the car coming, I shouted.

STOP. Stop little one, please observe the hazards: dust and time and horsepower.

I remember how awful I felt: you were scratching your own face with your razor-sharp infant ingernails and so I tried to cut them with tiny ingernail cutters, and at the second or third nail, I cut your skin instead accidentally and baby-you cried and so did I. Until recently, I never again attempted it, giving the job instead to your father.

And I remember bathing you and I remember you laughing and loving the warm, soapy water in your baby bathtub, but then the water was cooled and I had to lift you out and dry you and though I had never touched a wet baby seal, that’s what your slippery skin was like and my heart almost ruptured: slippery-soft, wet baby skin, tile loor, oh my god don’t drop him.

I held you as close as possible, more afraid than ever.

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