In the morning I go back to work. 13 months and an infant girl - past in a flash. She sleeps now, whilst - quiet as a mouse - I lift tomorrows clothes and lay them in a bag.
My parents happy guardians make, and twice a week i may return to those with whom I've worked the past eleven years.
13 months. Tiny swaddled babe. Newborn cry and your brothers face. Now grown plump. Crawl and reach and pull yourself up. Sorry, I am, not to take you to work.
But I have grown alongside you. The daughter I didn't expect. The little sister who was not her brothers choice. How we love the very bones of you. Purple and pink instead of blue. You have taught me I know not the road ahead.
My darling girl, the wind in my sails. My 13 months of breathing space... x