Monday, October 1, 2012

Age 1: A Baby on the Edge

by Dr. Margaret Aranda

So this is a part of the Blog Hop that Jane Ann is doing as the October Memoir and Backstory Blog Challenge.

It was my Father.  I knew it was him, and I had no fear.

My Father held me, and his arms and his scent were familiar to me.  In fact, I can still smell him if I close my eyes and reminisce just a little bit.  There.  I can do it now.  I know he is gone but it's almost like he is just next door, always there.

It was a summer day, sun beaming into my grandmother's San Antonio living room.  The smell of bacon and coffee eminated throughout the room, boastful of the perculator that gurgled and puckered its congenial hellos to the morning.   My uncles and aunts were in the room, as well as my cousins, and the room hummed with conversation here and giggles there.  Children were running about, in and out the front door, slamming the screen door behind them.   The reason why I remember who was there is because I was looking down on them all.

I could sit straight up, and no doubt my curly dark brown hair was tossed all about.  I didn't care about anything except my Father.  He told everyone to "Watch!"  My Mom echoed the usual, "Oh no, honey, your'e not going to do that thing again, are you?"  She was simply horrified and really, she was quite disgusted.  My Dad told her to relax.  She just stared at us.

I closed my eyes and tried with all of my might to hold in the excitement.  I was sitting in his hand now, his right hand.

Slowly, ever so slowly, as I was Sitting on The Edge of his hand, he started to lift me up.  He lifted me Up! and Up! and Up! and Up!  Straight up to the ceiling we went, and I closed my eyes and I held in the burst of exclamations as tight as I could.  Up! Up!  I went, dreaming of everything and dreaming of nothing.  I was On The Edge, and that was where I was going to stay.  I had no fear.  My Father would hold me up, just like he always did.  I could do this.  I knew I could.

My Father had me.  
It was my Father.  
I knew it was him, and I had no fear.


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Dr. Margaret Aranda's Books:

No More Tears en Espanol
Face Book Page: Stepping from the Edge
Little Missy Two-Shoes Likes to go to School
From Menarche to Menopause: A Journey through Time

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For Additional Memoirs by Dr. Margaret Aranda, Please Click Here:

Age 31: The Color Blue

Additional Articles by Dr. Margaret Aranda

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Full Disclosure: Margaret A. Ferrante, M.D.  is an Institute Physician with Cenegenics Medical Institute.  She receives no monetary compensation for hosting this website you are on, which is independent and not affiliated with Cenegenics. The information presented is for education and awareness.  Dr. Ferrante currently sees patients out of the Cenegenics office in Beverly Hills, CA. 
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  1. What a fantastic post - I love the sense of love and safety you put across about your father. That knowledge that they embody safety is very powerful!

    I'll forward to more!!

    1. Many thanks, Nell! Glad you liked it!
      I love thinking about my Father (can you tell?)

      Off to check out your Blog, too!

  2. This is beautiful. So lovely the way you move from a childhood scent into the past, and I was moved by the lyrical way you ended the story with lines echoing the beginning.

  3. Yes, it really brought back memories. I hadn't realized how important this moment was to me, but now I'm glad that I can remember it. Thank you, Jane.

  4. What a wonderful piece. I could just feel it -- especially with that picture.

  5. Oh, my. I can understand your mother's fear.

    I used to lift my girls up high, but not with them sitting on my hand. But I know the father's thrill of lifting his kids high. It's exhilerating.

    1. Yes, I know. My Father and I did this regularly, and I knew that all I had to do was to sit up straight. It was a very bonding experience, but I know what you are saying. It was amazing to me that he trusted me.

  6. I love this! What imagery. The smell, the visual of him holding you up on your hand, the power of looking down on everyone.
    Love the picture too! :) Well done!

  7. Took me a little bit to get over here and begin reading, (Who knew blog hopping could be so much work?)

    I love this piece to pieces you write exquisitely, like Susan said above, it was a treat for the senses, I especially enjoyed the ride up in the hand with you.

    Great job "Daddy's Girl"

    1. You are hopping is work!! But it is good to visit, too, isn't it? Indeed!

      Thank you for your kind comments on this post. My memories of my father are quite lovely and it was great to share a piece that others liked. Funny that some people disagreed with the ride... But that means it was so real! Great compliments!

      Dr. Margaret Aranda


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