Wednesday, July 28, 2010



What can I really say? I saved the best for last. Or is it only because you are the oldest that I have so many thoughts about your life? The first time we met was in the hospital, sure. But the first time we really met was when you were enamored by a giant gold pin I was wearing. You grabbed it with your baby hand and wouldn't let it go, and then you just looked up at me smiling this huge smile. I think you knew that we were going to be friends.

Hoarder of jewels and keeper of the boys
you scare me because of
that (almost fearless) defiant look
you remind me so much of myself

I do not love that you are already

I will never forget when I lived across the hall and
you would wake up in the mornings and jump on my bed
We would dance to
O Celia, you're breaking my heart
you're shaking my confidence baby

singing the words with all of our breath

Now, when I come over
you are busy
you are the talk of the town
your friends are much older than you are
and you have very important birthday parties

But sometimes I still get to have you all to myself
I tell you special secrets
just so you make that little face you do:
your mouth gets small, your cheeks red, and your eyes squint
I tell you
so that you know I love you and
so that you will keep giving me the best hugs

and I think that
although you plan on giving
everyone else in this world trouble

I'm not on the list.

You lost your top and bottom teeth at the same time
and you look the prettiest when the sea washes all the sparkles out
of your hair

Yesterday, at the beach,
you cut your finger on a seashell.
I carried you and your sunburnt freckled nose
to shore and
you kissed my cheek with your
salty mouth.

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