Today is my baby's birthday. She would have been five. This summer, she would have learned to ride a bike without training wheels and probably whistle. Sometime this year, she would have lost her first tooth, with her shins covered in bruises. She would have been young enough to still need me to fix every wound and to want to sit on my lap for awhile. She'd have been asking too many questions and filling our lives with imaginative play. Right now, she would be learning to read and counting higher than she ever had before. She would know how to skip and hold the baby and lay quietly in the grass, staring up at the clouds in the sky or watching a beetle lumber awkwardly across her view. She would sing sweetly or loudly, depending on her mood. Her antics would make me crazy, and make my heart swell with joy and love.
All those things you need a body to do.
All those things she isn't doing.
But she is mine.
And she is safe from this horrible, wicked world. And I will see her someday . . .
learn to ride a bike without training wheels
and lose a tooth
Someday, sweet, missed Eowyn. Someday, I will hold you again.