There is a lot you will have to shed if you are to be out there connected to the world again. There is a lot you will have to pick up too. For now, it's strange dreams, poor sleep and a toothbrush.
This might be the birthday month of your daughter. Already, I've lost track of the years. I think she's three now. Three is about the age she may have been when I saw the two of you together in a daydream long before her conception. Walking hand in hand, her confident little steps. Both of you with the same black wild hair. I imagined it then as a possible, beautiful, but unlikely part of my life. That's not the case now, but it's something to know that she is part of yours. I wish I could see how she looks at you, if it's like the way I dreamed it. I hope it is.
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