I am grateful that I know my baby girl. Not just know her, in the way that you know someone’s eyes, the way they walk, their favourite show or even how they sleep on the same side every night.
I mean, I know her. I know the way she breathes. The way her heart beats. I know what she is thinking, and what she is going to do before she even does it. I know she runs to me whenever she needs something, and I am the only one that can fix it. No one else.
I know her inside out. I know when something is wrong. Like today. She has been sick lately, and we had a big day, which made it physically hard on her, despite her unfailing never-stop-play attitude. I knew what she needed at the end of the night, when she was crying her eyes out, exhausted. I took her to her room. I listened to her.
I didn’t use the excuse of her being tired, or unwell, to ignore her pleas for help. So many people do. “They don’t know what they want,” they argue. I disagree. She knew, I listened, and I am so grateful that I know this. Because by knowing this, it really shows that I know her.
Of course I do. She is my Angel. My beautiful girl. My cheeky monkey. My best friend, and my everything. In fact I think I am so lucky, in having a girl. Having a girl, means I get a best friend for life. Without question, she is immediately, with no reservations, wholly and completely my best friend. And I am immediately, with no reservations, wholly and completely her best friend in return. No matter what, this girl will always be in my corner, as I will always be in hers. Because she came from me, and I made her. The bond is never ending.
(It’s been a hard night. I really needed this self-speech tonight. At least I have someone).