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sometimes you revel in the joy of your baby saying, “i’m gonna go climb a tree!” and watching her do it.

sometimes that baby jumps out of the tree beaming, “i did it, mama! i climbed a tree!”

sometimes your heart bursts watching that baby run around squealing, ” i can climb trees! i can climb trees!” to anyone who will listen and even those who won’t.

sometimes you go to sleep remembering those simple joys she found at the age of 4 and hope she holds on to it for as long as her sweet little hands and heart will hold.

sometimes you wake up thinking of those wee fingers grasping bark and twig.

sometimes you wake up.

until one day you don’t.

until one day you have to tell that baby, “sometimes people don’t wake up.”

“zeyda didn’t wake up.”

you would have loved watching her climb that damn tree, zeyda.

i can hear you say, “arright!”

i can see the fuzzy kiss you’d give her and the joy you’d share.

and that’s what my hands and heart have to hold onto.

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