This Friday’s poem is a revision of something I wrote MANY years ago. The 4 year-old is now nearly 18. Her curiosity, fashion sense and religious questioning are still intact.
Is God In My Seatbelt?
Four-years-old, and she really needs to know.
I pause, mid-buckle; running late
for preschool. We have been talking
about how God is in trees and fish,
her baby brother and sunflower seeds.
But a seatbelt? I don’t know.
Tell her yes,
says my rabbi friend – some smart person
invented the seatbelt,
and God was in that person.
I bring it up days later, but my daughter
has moved on to other things –
like which bracelets match flowered socks
or how to keep a headband on a stuffed tiger.
She nods gravely, humoring me for being slow.
What I really want is gum, she tells me.
Can I have some while we drive?