Six years ago today you burst forth from the waters of the womb, my merchild who swam before she took her first breath in this world. My glistening, shiny seal pup with your rooting mouth and wrinkled fingers. It felt as if I did not put you down for the next three years, and I needed that as much as you did. I dreamed of a daughter who was wild and free with a strong voice and will, you followed me in spirit for months and I felt you settle down in my womb five days before any blood was due. You have always been good at getting your own way. To raise a girl who has always been adored by everybody around her. To raise a girl who stamps her feet and tosses her head like an untamed mare. The joy of seeing you floating in the sea singing to the spirits of water and air. The way you listen soberly as I answer your questions about life, death and nature and you keep the answers safely tucked in your heart. Then the next minute you are laughing and teasing, five years old again, except now you are six, and who are you becoming?
To my daughter on her birthday
