Still Loving My Baby Girl

She wrenches my heart; it lurches when she says “please.”

Looking at her, I think I could die for loving her and what might be our fate together.  Her coming was like a comet, expected, profound and magical.  Every day I grow older and I wonder how I can face death and leave her?

Her giggles tickle my brain.

Her dance with bottom wiggling causes me to dance and wiggle.

The deep brownness of her eyes harkens back to other relatives who blew my life apart

and I stand amazed that this can be so in one lifetime.  I can never enjoy a day with her “grandpa” and I am glad.  Deeper than this gladness, I feel the relief.  No longer burdened by him, his evil ways, his crazy family and even though his genetic material lives on; it seems to have been diluted.  I pray this girl child will carry very little of it in her ovum to the next generation.  I pray for nurture; I pray nurture can curtail nature.

Love like this one feels dangerous.  I would compare it to watching a fireworks display with sheer delight and at the same instant knowing the power behind the elegant display of blues, reds and pure white light in the sky.   She, a rose bud; me a drying and dying bush with no blossoms remaining.

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