3

When she was younger she spent her days in socks. 

She slid and thumped and spun across hardwood floors. 

She knew nothing about life or love or loss, 

but she was close. 

Time flit past so quickly at that age. 

There were no concerns, only passing moments unrecognized by pretty blue eyes. 

Nap time was loathed, but remembered as sunshine and clean sheets. 

She would watch mama sleep. 

Eyes closed, face slack and unguarded. 

She lay there quietly and watched mama breathe. 

Each pore on her face, every line creased across her skin was beautiful, 

and this is how she chooses to remember mama.