One year ago today,
on a cloudy Saturday, much like this one,
my day would prove to be my last on earth
P.M.;
Pre-Mommy.
My birth story,
though already begun, was far from over. But I did not know that, yet. All I knew was that I was ready to meet my little darling.
This morning, I spent much of an hour lying on my daughter’s floor, staring at her face,
 a face that still makes me weak.
And because I was too caught up in her bow lips and neverending eyelashes to notice, she managed to get her arm stuck in her drawer.
And she cried, and when I rescued her poor little arm from the clutches,
she held me, with both of her arms, and rested her head on my chest,
and clung to me.
Because I am her mommy.
I make it all better.
And even though it’s been a whole long year,
this whole mommy thing still takes my breath away.
Yes, a whole year later
and I still look on at her,
at us,
and at all that we have become
in wonder.