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.