Showing posts with label Age 1. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Age 1. Show all posts

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Age 1: A Baby in the Sky for Father's Day

 / by Dr. Margaret Aranda / 


It was my Father. I knew him. I had no fear.

My Father held me, the scent of cologne feeling permeating my brain such that I can still close my eyes and smell it.  
There. I can do it now.  

I know he is gone, but it's almost like  he is just next door,  always there. His arms were strong, his hands with long gentle fingers that played "Two Guitars" on the piano. Get it? 2 guitars playing on one piano? That was the feeling sense of humor. "If it makes you smile," he said, "it was still a good joke."

Summertime offers beamed into my  grandma's from San Antonio family. The smell  of coffee  and bacon emanated in my nose,  and the electric percolator gurgled and puckered its  congenial hellos to my ears. My big family  crammed into the room, that  hummed with conversation here, there giggles and shouts and squeals of joy peppered here and there.  

Nutty children were just being children, running about,  boisterously  slamming the doors just as all kids do.  I still remember  who was there, it is because I  looked down on everyone. 

I could sit up straight, and my curly light 
brown hair was tossed all about in freedom. I did not care  about  anything except my Father. He announced, "Watch!" while my Mother  was  simply horrified. I was mortified! My Dad told all to relax. She just stared at us.  I did not care.  

      I just could not wait! I closed my eyes and imagined little I could fly! And then ... slowly .... it StartEd ....


Age 1: Baby in the Sky for Father's Day
                  Image 1 Up! Up! Up!   I tried with all of my might to hold still. I was a frozen smile. 
                                                  Now, I was sitting in my Father's hand.


Slowly, ever so deliberately and, as I was sitting on the edge of my Father's hand, he lifted me up. He lifted me up! and Up! and Up! and UPPP! We went straight up to the ceiling, his hand and I in perfect unison and symphonic harmony. I closed my eyes for this style dance, and held in the mightiest burst of exclamations, just as tight as I could. Up! Up! I went again, dreaming of everything and dreaming of nothing. I was On The Edge, suspended. At his command, I Reached up to the eyes of a magician's audience, and slowly, deliberately touched .... I .... I ... I touched the ceiling! Those moments in time, I learned everything I needed to know about life and love. Everything.     

That was where I was going to stay. I had no fear.  

My Father would hold on to me,  just like always.  
I could do this. Together with him, I knew we could do it .  

Slowly, I beg to fly by as I held out both arms for balance. 
My arms remained still as a rock, but in my imagination, I was a bird! High ... above the clouds! 
I straightened my back. I held my breath, and wonderfully magnificently.
My heartbeat pulsated, rocking Rapidly upon my neck.
The security and the freedom, the dichotomy of the safety and the danger, they were entranced my mind to no end.

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

             
 ~ For Father's Day and for Always, I love you, Daddy!

          ..... Thank you for giving me the wings to  just dare 

                                                                 You are always with me and in my essence. 
                                                                                  For always and forever.
                                                                                             I love you.

Twitter: @medibasket 

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Age 1: A Baby on the Edge

by Dr. Margaret Aranda


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 emanated throughout the room, boastful of the electric percolator that gurgled and puckered its congenial hellos to the morning.  My uncles and aunts crowded 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, boisterously 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,"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.  MORTIFIED! My Dad told her to relax.  She just stared at us. I didn't care. I just couldn't wait!


Image 1. Up! Up! Up! 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.  With him there, I knew I could do it. I held out my arms for balance. I straightened my back. I held my breath, ever so slightly.


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

We should feel the same confidence in God.

After all, we are His children. 

And He is our Father. 

Amen.

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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To Order Dr. Aranda's books, please click here:


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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



To Order Dr. Aranda's books, please click here:
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For Additional Memoirs by Dr. Margaret Aranda, Please Click Here:

Age 31: The Color Blue


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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. 
To book an appointment for a free Consultation, please email her at: mferrante@cenegenics.com


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