This is about a girl.
I miss waking to a new day and the first thing I see is her sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed doing her hair and makeup.
While I’m sound asleep in her bed or rapping to a song over the radio while driving she takes out her phone, takes a picture of me without my knowledge, and posts it on her snapchat account.
I miss her heart; larger than the open blue sky and brighter than any headlights. A forgiving heart- warm and soft- and safe.
She holds me when I fall apart.
She’s stronger than anyone I know- able to survive any situation which arises.
She tells her friends my secret: I’ve read all of Nicholas Sparks books, and I love the Notebook.
When she looks in the mirror- inspecting herself- she puckers her lips, full and soft to touch, and its the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
She allowed me in; showing me her joy and teaching me about her pain, her courage I envy.
As she sleeps I sometimes watch her, at rest and venerable, and I wonder how I became so lucky.
I’ll lay in bed will she sits Indian style next to me, eating cereal and for some reason just watching her makes me smile.
She always thinks of me; I always think of her.
She’s spontaneous- accompanying me to see my favorite band perform live in Connecticut- with less then 24hr notice. I was never happier and it’s because she joined the family that day.
She was proud.
If she didn’t push me to do it, I would have never joined the Union and she would never have jumped with joy when I read the letter aloud.
Most importantly, the space and acceptance she gives me for my thoughts, actions, and resentments I have with my mother. She speaks to me about her as I she knew her before mom passed away. She volunteers with me and understands the importance of the relationship I keep with my mother.
She consoles me at times that I need consoling, and I do the same for her.
She reminds me of my mother, with her love of life and her ability to be available for the times of my imperfections.
… About a Girl