I ready her for bed, and I have a flashback to when she was one year old.
She was so enchanting, so clever, so funny, so wonderfully mine. Toddling around the living room, she’d come to rest on my knees and look up at me with those incredible eyes. I laughed joy and took a picture and then a hundred more.
Then, we didn’t know the road ahead. We didn’t know of nonverbal autism and seizures, lead poisoning, and countless hours of therapy, the painful spurts of aggression and self-injury.
That perfect day in the living room faded away with our hopes and expectations.
She’s nearly twelve now and finding her voice; we’re finding hopes again, never really lost.
I ready her for bed and she gives me that look, the same one from eleven years before. It’s one thing that’s never changed.
So enchanting, so clever, so funny, so wonderfully mine.