"We do not live in
the past, but the past in us."
– Ulrich Philips
A year ago this coming week I saw my daughter in person for the first time since she was three days old. Oh, I did not talk with her. I did not touch her. I barely looked at her.
Yet we were in the same room, breathing the same air, hearing the same noises. There were mere centimeters between us and I could not touch her or make my presence known. I still marvel at how I surived that day. I suppose it is rooted in the fact that I had already lost her. I knew I could do it again. Not sure I like that level of acceptance.
I still lose my breath thinking about that day. Odd, how somehow, I just knew that the anniversary of that encounter was around this time. I looked it up in my blog archive and sure enough, I was right. Approxmiately a year ago this week I met Claud and we joked about me running into my daughter. Claud had brought big dark sunglasses just in case.
Some joke. Some sick, cruel, cosmic joke.
It amazes me how I just KNEW from the back of her that it was her. I knew from the side of her lovely pierced nose. I can still see the slouch of her back, the slant of her beautiful face, her expression.
My daughter without question.
History cannot be rewritten but it can be reread.
Read The Nose.