My 21 inch baby
is turning into a 4ft 3rd grader.
How can the box I made for her in my mind,
filled with Barbies and tea sets and bedtime stories,
fail me and let her grow up?
Her thirst for knowledge and experience
becoming my greatest enemy…
pushing the edges of the box further and further
until there will no longer be a box,
no longer my little girl.
When I see her examine the world,
I’m afraid of what she’ll find out…
that the monsters under her bed are not the things to be afraid of.
That the grown-ups I urge her to be polite to,
can actually hurt her.
But she is so determined to see the world,
so determined to escape the cushioned box.
I know she will be great…legendary.
When her fists become clenched and she bites her lip,
I know she is trying to figure out the world,
and that one day she will succeed in doing so.
She will be the cure
for life.