Every day I listen to her grow loud loUD LOUD and stare at blue veins pulsingpulsing with crimson and wonder if she loves them, truly, while the same words she uses when she's yelling get mixed up in the volume.
She cares so much about the envelopes that my graduation declarations go into.
Takes care to pick out the pretty stamps.
Makes special return-to-sender stickers.
Stuffs those envelopes with love.
And in the unhurried way her arm moves, the actually patient-for-once! trill of her fingers makes me remember that there are times when she's absorbed in the beautiful part of me living here.
Of me still being here, still disappointing, still being so very different than she was when she was my age.
And her still loving me anyway. Still taking time to gaze in my eyes longingly. The eyes that she fell in love with, that came through her and into me.