You Can Tell Me Anything

Sometimes I can't believe she's mine.

I thought this would wear off after nearly five years, but it hasn't.

I spent the first few days after her birth saying that I couldn't believe she was mine. Big Daddy assured me that he had stayed with her the whole time from the moment that they brought her out and that she was definitely mine.

Now she has droopy, brown eyes and bruises up and down both legs just like me.

And she's strong-willed. Apparently I am too because we can really give each other a hard time.

I can't believe how long and skinny her legs are. When she's sitting in the floor I am amazed at how far it is from the bottom of her head to where her bottom meets the floor.


One of her most used phrases is, "Can I tell you something"? If you say no, it makes her mad. I usually answer by saying "you can tell me anything". There's no telling what she'll say. She still asks me to tell her what happened on the day she was born all the time. This morning, she whispered,


"Could you tell me again what happened to Martin Luther King"?


Of course, I had explained what happened to Martin Luther King, the civil rights movement, segregation and even a little bit about slavery when she was out of school for the Martin Luther King holiday.