I Must Have

I put two little pigtails in her hair. Right on the top of her head with the back of her hair hanging down. It was the first time I fixed it that way. She stood, like always, letting me comb and part it, tying it up with little bands, twisting and securing each side. Her big green eyes watching me, impatiently, wanting to get onto the next thing. She never said much, but she learned to say, "Ouch!" from watching her big sister, Jordi, getting her hair fixed. "Ouch!" she said, though it lacked conviction. Just a word, that she now knew, appropriately spent on the event.

Right before that, I put on cute little jeans. It was the first time she had worn them. Little hand sewn patches into the sides, tiny jeans. I still have them. She was going horseback riding that morning, for the first time. She loved to go on trips and I wondered how much she understood about where she was going. "You and Russell are going to see the horse's and Gamma and Papa!" "Papa" she said. But she meant "Grandma" she always called my mother, "Papa", we just didn't realize it right away.

Her face, those big green eyes, those trusting eyes, that hair, those little curls. Her hair was the longest any of my children's hair had grown by age 2. That's why I liked to fix it, because I could. I know I hugged her, how could I resist? I must have hugged her close before or after I dressed her and did her hair up. I must have. I know I kissed her, didn't I? I must have.

Sometimes, like now, the pain of losing her, those last moments, those last quick unpredictable, unforeseeable moments, taken for granted at the time, not knowing what would happen, not knowing, how could I have known? It just comes back so strong, so horribly hard and fast, Oh God, I miss her, I miss her, I miss her. Oh God.