I’ve been holding pictures of you in my hands, tracing the outline of your face with the tips of fingers.
I realized that you’d grown out of your baby face, and had become a little girl.
I run my pointer finger over the pictures of your curls, and I remember how perfectly they spiraled.
The hair over your right ear was exquisite. It was my favorite spot on your head. It smelled so good.
I wonder how long it would be now. If I’d have taken you for a hair cut.
In your pictures you are tall and skinny, but you’d just had major weight gain.
Your hand wrapped perfectly around my pinky. It should be big enough to hold my index finger now (maybe bigger).
You were putting words together. Now you’d be speaking in sentences. You were light years ahead in communication skills.
There is so much I don’t know and I never will. I am always going to wonder about you.
It will never get easier to live without you