She will not grow up, I think to myself. I think it while I hold her in my lap, and when I crush her pills. It crosses my mind when I tighten the waist of her too-big pants and when I brush her teeth. She will not run barefoot through the sprinkler this summer, or make shadow puppets with a flashlight inside a dark tent. It comes to me as I watch children her age climb the slide, spin in fancy skirts, lick drippy ice cream cones, perform favorite nursery rhymes. It occurs to me, again, when I set just three places at the dinner table, and when I pause to watch her sleep. She will not tease her brother or use words to tell me how much she loves me, or hates me. She will not grow up, I think as I create small holes in the dirt and fill pots without a curious sidekick.
I think it, and then I whisper to her: You will not grow up, but you will always be my baby.
JEB
Me too...always.
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Always.
ReplyDeleteYour Beautiful Baby!
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful
ReplyDeleteI just found your blog through Tiffany (Elastamom) and just wanted to say that the love that flows from your words awes me. The love, the beauty, the sorrow. Just...wow.
ReplyDeleteShe will always be loved and in our hearts. She has changed us all for the better.
ReplyDeleteLove and hugs and prayers!
So true. As Emily will always be my baby.
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