Emma wedged between two throw pillows is cute. What about it is cute, the estatic grin, the glowing cheaks, the geometric color lines sewn on the pillow. I had the picture printed on coffee mugs, and gave them as holiday gifts. Maybe I'm wrong, but even my closest relatives weren't thrilled to receive the mugs. They thanked me, but didn't hold the mugs as though they were a holy mug, which is how I hold my photo mug; with tenderness and care.
When Emma first came home she was both small and slippery, I was terrified of dropping her. Sometimes standing with her, my mind would start racing, "if you drop her, her head will be badly hurt and people will never forgive you! Hold on, don't lose focus, concentrate, but don't squeeze her. She's softer than Charmin, and you're responsible."
My mind was going from code yellow to code red to code "Sportscenter," so quickly, that I had trouble breathing. Now that Emma is 17 old monthes part of me feels as though she's a mature young woman, ready for her driving permit.
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