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Tuesday, April 22, 2008
at 13, things are different
9:04 AM
 raven was her own wardrobe manager, even at 4 years old. the tutu was her fav and i am surprised she is not wearing her black cowboy boots for this image which she lived in. at this age, she was spending a lot of time with her grandfather and thus she learned to speak with a harsh new york smokers accent. she is and was a wildcat at home but at school they all called her "little dove". this baffled me. little dove? **bat long lashes here**when i close my eyes i can still picture her perfectly at 4. the freckles were just starting to spring up across her face. her breath was sweeeeet even in the morning when she cracked her sleepy eyes and rubbed away the sheet marks in her cheek. i can still remember how soft her skin was and her sweaty little curls at the nape of her neck after playing outside. she used to dance like a hula girl stuck to the dash of a car....rockin her hips and waving her cupped hands all stiff necked and grinning. she named everything "calliOsha" i dont know where this word came from or why but her dolls, her stuffed animals, her imaginary friends....all calliOsha. she couldnt say chelsea so she called her sister "sassy". she climbed on top of stools, countertops, refrigerators....you couldnt turn your back. her fingers and hands were wide and always sweaty, her toes always with a bit of lint between them. she loved to run up behind you and smack your "booty". she was a streaker. her defiance was great...she'd put her own self in time out even, refusing to get up. in my mind i can see her doing somersaults, dragging the bunny rabbit around by its ears, sleeping slack jawed and drooling. laughing with head thrown back maniacly, posing for photos like a superstar, flashing a grin to get her way. popping candy in her mouth like an addict, singing and rubbing my face. puckering up for kisses. i wish i could pick her up, hold her, rock her and keep her safe again. 12 Comments |
