January 30, 2011 - 1:23
I say a prayer: Water, guide this pellicle molt. Let it drift, blessed buoyant, into the open mouths of my bathing nieces, yonder. And though I know it's selfish, let it lull their growth, to please, please keep them here, in hot blooded clear cheeks and ropey mer-miss hair for just a few years longer.
I love them so.
I will miss them so.