With her braid like pig tails, she charges out the door, stabbing the street with every step, plaid skirt swaying towards 8th grade. She is alive and vibrant, plated and bejeweled subtly so not to distract the morning's lessons. My girl, my love, my baby soon to be a high schooler and me, in my my mind in grad. school-perpetually. All the prayers I have for her unfold and she smiles and quips and spins and jokes and I have to stop and BE with her and sit in consciousness to notice that it is happening, she is here, she is so lovely and I am hopelessly in love with her. Her touch, her sweet ness, the spark of her woman-hood shrouds her and sits in the shadow creeping ever closer and my own light casting it's shadow still strong and my resolve ever vigilant. My heart expands and my life enriched as she breathes another day and makes silly faces and forgets to brush her teeth and sets my world a wonder and for her I am truly grateful.
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