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, Motherwell, Mothers Always Write, and Literary Mama, among numerous other publications. She is also a patient advocate in the chronic pain and mental health communities. Interested in her writing or editing, or want to work together? Check out her contact page.