In
two week my baby turns ten! Ten!
Ten
years my eyes not resting until her eyes are a sleep. Ten years my heart
jumping at a cry or a murmur of “Mummy!”. Ten years deciphering her facial
expressions, trying to understood what she did not say, wondering if there is
something more I can do, some way I can be more her and less me. Ten years of
constant unconditional flaming love, and still to this day I look for her face,
between the dozens of children running out of the school gate I look for her
face and a certain throbbing, the same old throbbing, like that very first day they
handed her to me ten years ago, the first time I saw her face.
She
doesn’t realise that there are parts of her that are only mine, moments, days, months,
years that live in my memory alone, before she decided to be, she was my thoughts,
my dreams, my imaginations, she was a prayer.
