Angelina

I look back and see her in her little duck towel.

I’m carrying her in my arms, while walking to the room.

Dressing her because she couldn’t do it by herself.

Goodbye to that part of me that claimed

I could never be a “good enough” mother.

I was the person who bathed her,

made sure she wouldn’t get shampoo in her eyes.

I sat her in her little bathtub and made

sure she would never fall over.

And now I am the one who sits and observes.

She sings “rain rain go away” once I turn the faucet on.

I see her kick the water and stomp in bathtub puddles.

She no longer sits— she stands.

She walks herself out of the bathroom, straight into the room.

She no longer needs my help.

Goodbye to that feeling of hiding my

daughter because I was afraid of how people would react.

I no longer wish to hide Angelina as a way of pleasing others.

I have lost enough years worrying about others.

I must focus on my little independent 5 year old—

I thank her

for all her tantrums, her fears, her fun and every time

she has needed me.