6 months vs 42 months. Her big eyes continue to beguile me. They see through to my source, missing nothing, including my moods, which she reflects back at me. Her hair is lighter now, with a tendency to tangle. She hates for me to tame it, or her. They say the days are long, but the years are short. Whole stages pass in an afternoon. "I don't need you anymore," she said recently, carelessly. She is becoming more herself now, less my shadow, and I know I should embrace her growth. And I do. But nobody tells you how exquisite the ache is when you lose your baby and gain a little girl. My heart is broken, gaping open with love and newfound wisdom. I want to slow down time and keep her close, but that's not the way it goes. Nevertheless, my soul remains tethered to hers.
is a writer, editor, and poet. Her writing has been nominated for the Best-of-the Net award, and has appeared in The Washington Post, HuffPo, Today's Parent, Los Angeles Review of Books, and Motherwell, among numerous other publications. She is also an advocate in the mental health and chronic illness communities.