soon....

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Originally uploaded by elfed

The Birthday Party — by Liz Rosenberg

Now she can say her age, which she pronounces
carefully, as "tew," sometimes flashing a victory sign.
It's all over by the age of two, claimed J.M. Barrie, in "Peter Pan,"
and such is the invidious nature of great literature that I find
myself looking carefully at her, to see if it's all over,
and if it is, what it was. She seems not to have noticed.
When someone shut out the lights and in the darkness
set her cake on fire, she clung to me harder.
And when we leaned together to blow out the candles
she understood there was magic at work,
for now she keeps blowing at things to see if they will go out.
The dumb mothers and their babies came today
to eat cake, and not one brought a gift for this child,
which offended me, and felt like a mortal wound—
not for the sake of the toys, which are tiresome,
and take up space and are seldom wanted or needed—
but because one brings gifts nearing a threshold,
it quiets the gods.
My own household god broke the coffeepot,
and sent them scurrying back to the walk,
and I'd have tossed pans and cups after them
except I am older than two, it's all over for me,
I have learned to pretend to be polite.
And Lily, little Lily, smiled and waved her hand
blithely, glad to see the company come,
equally glad to see them go—
because she is "happy!"—her favorite word—
and because she is two, and mighty.

The New Yorker - Dec. 15, 2005