this echo within me, of something else, somewhere else, someone else. the ebb and flow of it, haunting, so close and yet so far. who was i, who am i, can i stand to be what i will become?
for years i’ve shed off one thing after another, stripped myself off in pieces dangled by skeletal fingertips, bare and cracked.
somewhere along the way i died and was reborn. and this new skin is hard to come by, treacherous to wear, but i have no other.

the passion of you, this bright smile, this wonder, you embody joy and innocence in a way that they write about in books.
you’ve turned two and it’s as if i have seen you for the first time. the last couple of years have been difficult for us as a family and i hope, with all my heart, that in the same way you forget your pacifier when we’ve secretly taken it away from you, these dark years eventually are forgotten as well.