I held her face to mine the first time she felt the air. I kissed her gently and wrapped her warmly. Her face giggled, wiggled, got tickled, and cried.
I watched her face grow, blossom, bloom. I knew her better than anyone else. I loved, I hated, I kissed, and, admittedly, at times, I slapped her beautiful face.
As she lies here today, I stroke her cheek one last time. There will be light in her eyes next time I see her angelic face. Until then, it’s her I will see nightly, daily, haunting my dreams. She’s every child to me.