THE BABY BORN IN 1944

-after the paintings, The Baby (1944) and Artist’s Daughter by the Sea (1943) by Milton Avery

Why I chose to enter the world at a time of such violence and destruction, I will never know. But births always come after deaths; adults seem to forget this. It is only we, nameless, faceless, infants, who still hold the memories of the past and the future. We, come tumbling into the future on a bright blue carpet of hope bringing new world views. Why had I returned? I know it was my choice. I looked at the pale pink bunting my mother had dressed me in. Mother was in the other room crying. She had not heard from my father. I knew he would be dead in a few weeks. I had already heard talk of his arrival before I left for Earth. I put myself into my mother’s emotions. I slipped into the future. I thought forward to the day I would wear a dress of almost that same color pink. With matching pink socks, I would be the picture of youthful innocence at the seashore, collecting conch shells while listening to waves echoing the hormonal pulls and tugs in my body. The gulls would hover around me that day, trying to protect my innocence, but I knew it was over. I knew by the way he wanted to paint my picture that he was looking for so much more. Strategically he placed the shells between my legs and my hand between my bent up knees. The world was on the verge of another war, and I was on the verge of losing my virginity. The Vietnam War would not pull the nation together. This one would tear at its very soul. Here I would come of age. We babies, born way back then in 1944, knew this would all come to pass. Knew we would lose our innocence before we were ready. Knew we were a generation that would turn against each other over a war. But yet…. knowing all we did at birth, we still chose to live in hope and forgive the adults who started these wars unbeknownth to us, the innocents who repopulate the earth daily with hope and new dreams and are sacrificed.