She is enveloped in my arms, sealed in by her blankie. She walked relative miles of sidewalks this morning, experiencing spring for the first time on her own two legs. Now she wants to rest with her mom for a few moments before busying herself with the next task. As we cuddle, her lips undulate against her blankie's fringe. I close my eyes and lean to kiss her forehead, breathing her scent of sweat, dirt, and syrup. She will always be my baby.
Winter has lost its grip on our neighborhood, and I wear no head covering as I walk about the neighborhood. I can feel the sun on my scalp, coaxing growth from my hair as if it were a plot of daffodils. The breeze tickles my follicles. I feel better than I've felt in months, and for the first time feel that everything might actually be okay.
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