Meirma always called me Baby. That was her name for me for as long as I can remember. She called her cat Kittycat… and her turtle’s name was simply Turtle. I never saw it as uncreative, it was a cute little thing that Meirma did. She was from a Different Time. We continued this tradition of literal names ourselves, naming our little baby poodle Puppy, (Puppy Luv officially, just to save face at the Vet), and my bunnies are named BunBun and Isobel Bun. She just started calling me Baby when I was a baby, and it stuck.
I remember a time when I was a Naughty Bad Child, and had to go to a place for bad kids where they tried to reign us in. My problem was the fact that I was always treated as an adult by my very young mother, hanging out with her friends and listening to Adult Talk that I probably shouldn’t have heard at that tender age. I felt that I was their equal because I was treated that way by everybody around me. I was raised around adults and didn’t hang out with other children until I was much older. This made me very defiant to authority, and that has stuck throughout my life. I don’t regret it one bit, though. It made me who I am.
At the Bad Kid Place, the shrink had the brilliant insight that I “acted like a baby” because Meirma called me Baby. They instructed my mother to forbid Meirma to call me that. It made me livid, and Meirma would have none of it, of course! Good for her!
Every time I came into her house, and later, her awful room at Hylond senior care centre, her eyes lit up and she exclaimed “Ba-by!!!” I miss that so much. Nobody will ever call me that again. I was always her baby. Her first granddaughter. I was so lucky to grow up next door to her and Poppy. He doesn’t call me Baby. Poppy calls me Sugar. He talks kind of funny, so it doesn’t have the hard “SHHH” sound. It’s a softer, snakey “S”, like the word Sweet. Soon enough the time will come when I’ll never hear that again, either.
So here I am on Mother’s Day, crying my eyes out thinking of Meirma, wishing so hard that I could hear her call me Baby one more time. I wish I had a recording of her voice. A video of her adorable face when it lit up with joy.
I went to a nursery today and saw the same beautiful flowers that I used to buy for her every year. A gorgeous Delphinium in purple and pearl shades that looks magic. A beautiful Petunia in vivid violet with the coolest yummy green ruffled edge. I would always buy one for me, Meirma, and Mommy. Meirma had a way of keeping hers alive longer than the rest of us. We have Green Thumbs, but she has a Green Soul! She is the Queen of the Flower Fairies. I bought flowers for myself, but really, they are for her. I want to give them to her and I will, in my own Witchy way.
I’m crying like a baby. I am nothing but a baby. I want my Meirma back and I will never know true happiness again without her in my life and without her sweet presence on this earth. I want to stomp my feet and scream “Why? Why? Why? It’s not fair! I want her back!” I am a total baby when it comes to Death. I hate Death. I’ve declared War on it. And in my own babyish way, I almost believe that if I wish hard enough, she will return to me.