I love to lay next to Charlotte as she's falling asleep at night. I love to watch her as the day slips away and peace overtakes her beautiful face. I am always overcome. She is my daughter. My family. And her brothers. They are the legacy I ached for, the healing balm on my wounds of years past. But, here's the thing. They are mine when they're beautiful and they're mine when they're slightly less so. If they're mine when they're peaceful, they must be mine when they're mouthing off and when they're running through the Dollar Tree pretending to ride a parrot balloon. We belong to each other. The good, the bad and the ugly.
Maybe that's what I want my children to know, most of all. That it's easy to claim someone when times are good. But, when all the chips are down. (Like, literally, when they've pulled all the chips down off of the shelves at Target) that's when you must be able to say, Yes, she is mine. I'm here for her.
Family shows up.
