it was still early, eight or so, when i got her out of her crib.
she burrowed her whole body into my chest.
my heart melted.
then she decided that didn't allow her to be close enough to me.
she did a little hop, flattened her body against mine,
grabbed my left arm with all her might and smushed.
her breathing calmed and she started patting my arm.
we swayed our way into the living room
where i attempted to feed her the rest of her bottle.
all she wanted to do was nuzzle.
so that's what we did.
i sang her lullabies from my childhood a thousand times each.
when those got old,
i switched to some of my favorite songs to play on the guitar.
while i sang she rotated her head back and forth on my chest.
every time our faces were level, she gave me a kiss and a smile.
at one point she looked up at me, patted my face and said,
and once again, that little girl gave me just what i needed.
the reminder that while she is adorable and sweet to every person she meets,
and hands out her dimple smiles to strangers
and will dance for anyone who's watching,
i am her mommy.
i am the one who makes everything right again.
i am the one whose lullabies make her fall asleep.
i am the one who kisses every bonk and bruise.
i am her best friend
and she is mine.