nookncranny's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- mission with petals little bee, my girl, was turning seven. but then we noticed the conflict. the morning after of the very first slumber party she would ever attend; was also the morning of her birthday. heartbroken crocodile tears popped through her curtains of eyelashes. she had wanted me to be the first person to wish her happy birthday. i secretly worked it out with the mother. coffee quickly sipped, and coat thrown on, i ventured into the morning cold. i manuvered through the garden of sleeping bags, each incubating a bud of snoozing girl, on tip toes. whispered her name and stroked her tiny hand, glistening with fresh polish from the night before. when you pull up images of your mother, you engender the most tender and immeasurable and intimate things. the back of her hands, the shape of her neck, a certain thing her voice will do...it still completely blows me away that i am someone's image of "mother." she pushed past veils of dreaminess, saw me there, and gathered the bouquet of flowers i brought her into a hug. when she wears her fondness all over her face, i could die of love. - ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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