(until the surface)
My daughter grabbed my hand, twirling me into a dance. I hesitated, glancing at the mixing bowl on the counter, the dirty spatula in my hand. Her smile convinced me to drop everything, and we whirled gladly around the kitchen together. I soaked in her blond hair lit on fire by the sun, her blue eyes that always seemed so much older than her years. She sang loudly with Blossom Dearie: Do I love you? Oh my, do I. Darling, deed I do, then suddenly burst out, ‘Oh Mommy, I want us to always stick together!’ I started to nod as she went on, ‘but even when we get apart, we always find each other in the end.’ In that moment I felt something break; there was water streaming from my eyes, but also pouring over me, somewhere deep within. Her words were ancient wisdom, deep magic, laughing kindly through the centuries at my fear of death and dying, they spun around and around me and I knew she was true. We would find each other, around some corner, behind some door, somewhere in ...
