How can the ordinary be nothing short of miraculous?
Before first breath she was wholly dependent on me. Every beat of my heart thundered in her ears, the white noise of mother comfort. My body was her protector, her strength, her incubator…her first home…and when forced to leave–because it was time–she did so reluctantly, kicking and screaming in protest.
I suppose I would, too, suddenly and painfully squeezed from obsidian cocoon to lights and cameras and action.
Almost 6,800 days sandwich between then and now, time evidenced by brilliant metamorphosis, the girl-child becoming woman.
Inching breath by breath away from first home. Because it is time.
My first born and only daughter graduates in 28 days.
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Although I went a few minutes beyond (not on purpose!), I didn't go back and edit. Oh, my…THIS one could've gone on for days!