I'm watching "Toy Story II."
An eight-year-old is about a fun as it gets. Full of questions, excited about life, discovering amazing things in normal life, every day, silly, conversational, creative.
I can imagine us, curled in this bed with the cat and dog, a big bowl of home-made peanut brittle, cuddling and LAUGHING at this silly movie.
I can imagine the smell of body oil on her scalp, the rubber of her sneakers erasing my leg hairs, her bony elbows in my ribs and breasts, the heat of her pressed against me.
I can imagine us.
It's the hardest feeling in the world.
