she rustled under my polyester top as I walked in the sunshine to the blue Nova.
The doctor declared today would be her birthday; she was already three weeks late, no signs of starting labor.
I held her tightly to me.
Since the time of her birth, I have never put her down; not truly.
She left me to go to college and get married and have a career and start a family.
When she comes back,
I am waiting.
Her love for her daughters is strong and challenged by the times in which she lives.
I grow older; more tired, less able. A virus catches me and I am laid up for days and her children rebound in minutes, it seems.
Daughter of mine.
How can I say how I felt then, how I feel now? How fierce is my love? Fighting every day for her survival and the well-being of her young, I am lost, there is not enough of me. My energies are on the wane and I must go on to old age – alone.