Long-legged, a little awkwardly confident, a little sassy. Her thick golden-brown braid thumps heavily against her shoulders, fly-away hairs trapped, for the moment, under a red headband. Tall, straight, her skirt a bit too short and snug as to waistband-- time to buy new uniforms. Again. She fills a hot pink coffee mug with ice water, slings her hot purple backpack over her shoulder, "Sign this, Mama!" And she glides off gracefully into the early morning.
Late, of course.
What else? You're mine, after all.
But I don't remember giving you permission to grow up...
Linking up with Just Write for this Tuesday. I habit I hope to continue...
1 comment:
Oh such a beautiful vignette.
Thank you!
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