Punk Rock Girl

The first song you ever heard was in our car as we drove you back from the hospital. It was a hot Monday afternoon, November 17th around 12.15. The song was ‘Babylon’ by David Gray. It’s not a bad first song to hear or sing, though late at night when I am trying to help you sleep I’m singing ‘Angels’ instead.

You were born at 8.24 pm on Saturday November 15th, 2008. Your mother is so brave, so strong; I admire her and love her so much. You weighed 6 pounds and 10 ounces. I sit and stare at you and time slips by and you look at me and I don’t want to blink, don’t want to swallow or turn away or miss an instant with you. We named you Sophie Kathleen Geraghty. I wonder if your feet are like mine, I know your eyelashes are from your mother; I now know I will have the pleasure in my life of knowing two women who will stop my breath with a simple look, an unprovoked smile. Your middle name is after your great granny Kathleen Smullen. You will be my little muse, my heartbeat, my compass. You were 19 inches long when you were born.

One final song tonight? In the West of Ireland, there is a town called Galway where it always rains. One day we will visit there and as we walk through the drizzle and narrow streets, I’ll turn to you and sing:

And I ask you friend, what's a fella to do?
'Cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue