She lays on my bed, her feet crossed, bare toes with their sparkly chipped polish peeking out of the "Hello Kitty" blanket she's almost outgrown. She is engrossed in her reading, lost somewhere in fictionalized early Native American history and though the angle of her glasses blocks the expression in her eyes, a small smiles plays about the corners of her mouth. I reach out and twirl a tendril of hair that has escaped her ponytail. She looks at me briefly and rewards me with a huge grin, then returns to her book.
Girl of my heart, that daughter of mine.