The Swirl

Like most new mothers, I spent so much time staring at my Lucia.  I’d study her features and movements. Inhale her scent, and try and learn as much as I possibly could about her.  I’d look at her tiny little veins and long eyelashes.  I spent hours watching her chest rise and fall.

And in these moments, I’d tell myself that having her was the most absolute miracle, I had ever known.

One of the first things I noticed during my first few days with Lucia was a tiny swirl of baby hair on her forehead.  I’d often circle my finger around that swirl and say to my husband  “we made that”. 

We made that. 
The swirl became a topic of discussion between Bob and I during the past four years.  Aware that the baby hair swirl would someday be gone, I’d find myself searching for it – searching for true semblance of  any babyhood left in our growing girl.

A few days ago, Lucia and I had the chance to visit Kindergarten, to glimpse into her new beginnings come September.  I watched her color and observe the teacher and students, and I searched for the swirl.  I felt my pulse quicken as I could not see it.

Then she got sick and needed her mama.  I summoned my mama-tricks, and she lay in my lap – dressed up as a ladybug queen even while ill.  As I stroked her hair and she fell asleep in my lap, I found it.

The swirl.

A fainter version of the one she was born with.

It is still there. For now.



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