there was a little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead.

Right before my eyes, in my shoes, she is growing.

Asking big questions, her blue-green eyes searching mine for answers,
and I cup her chin to say,
"I don't know child. I don't know."

Days feel like a race, toward bedtime, toward dark, to a future that is racing back at us.

And the love? Like. Whoa.

To be honest, I never feel it as strongly as when it's 11:48 p.m., she is sleeping soundly and I realize that this is the baby I once carried. The love that crashes inside of me in those moments is astounding and I will rest my head by hers, pray, stare and pray some more.