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03 March 2012 @ 04:04 pm
From Gypsy Mama  
I didn't write this, but it's all mine.

I love her in irrational ways.

I want to bookend each minute with her with a photograph. I snap them in my head. How she turns and giggles over her shoulder. That dimple that teases from the left cheek, or is it the right.

They told me it would be like this- all those mothers of daughters who laughed off my fear. How right they were seems small in comparison to how I love her. I am unmade at the generosity that she was entrusted to me. Whole years of my life have been redeemed in this first year of hers.

There is the way she dances – knees bent, squatting and rocking and bouncing to the beat. There is the way she clenches her fists and her jaw in joy when a moment overwhelms her. There is the way she pinches my arm as I rock her, how she wants to let go her bottle and place her hands on my cheeks. There is the way she wants to look right into my eyes as she falls asleep.

I see worlds in hers.

On the cusp of one year. One full year. How will I swallow all this joy and longing for what was and desperate excitement for what is still to come. Daughter. That word holds me in the palm of its hand.

Daughter.

We will grow up together. Close your eyes, Zoe. It’s almost time to make a wish.