My Divine Child

mydivinechild

I had forgotten about this image. I don’t know who the child is, or where the image originated from, but I found it a year or so ago on one of those click-bait slideshows — this one entitled something akin to the world’s evilest babies. I was scrolling through, mildly amused, when I happened upon a calm, sweet-looking redhead with a devious glint in her eyes. It looked just like my sister as a baby. I called my husband over to my computer to see the likeness for himself; he’d looked at all our baby pics. He agreed that it did, indeed, bear an uncanny resemblance to her. He clicked forward on the slideshow for further amusement, and then about fell off his chair laughing, as the image above was the next one.

“It’s you!” he shouted. “This one looks just like you when you were a baby. It’s your divine child, Jill.”

I had to admit the expression and general visage did resemble mine. However, I was a bald baby with pointy ears. As in, really point ears, of the elfin variety.

I downloaded the image for safekeeping/future inspiration and forgot about it. I download images frequently, usually for book formatting purposes. Authors will send me title pages, special fonts, and the like. Somehow, this image seemed to disappear from my downloads until today, when it popped out at me. I think I jumped out of my skin (if that’s possible). In its original version, the image is a large file and doesn’t load quickly enough to show up before I scroll past it. Today, I left the download folder open for some time, and hence, it appeared. That’s the logical response.

The illogical response is the correct one, though. She — my divine child — knew I needed help on the final leg of my book of misanthropic absurdity. She knew I was panicking and flailing due to having to work long hours every day, with a guest coming to stay for several weeks. She wanted to scare me into submission, and so she popped out unbidden. I think it worked.

Maybe. If not, my dreams will be haunted tonight, rest assured. Because mine won’t be.

(I just realized that I had written a post not that long ago demonstrating my resemblance to Alexander Pope. I swear I’m not looking for my doppelgangers intentionally; these images keep popping out at my sleep-deprived mind. Plus, I look like everybody. I hear that all the time. My non-attachment principle must have spread to my face.)

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