Dear Ailis

Oh, baby girl! I miss you every day.

You would be almost two years old, now. Running around and chattering. You would be all dimples and curls. You would be shouting "Mine!" and "NO!" at every given opportunity. You would have your birthday right around Christmas, but I would never let anyone try to combine the two. You would still smell baby-sweet. You would still look perfect and innocent when you were sleeping. I would let you wear fairy wings and rubber boots to the grocery store. I would take your picture all the time. (You would be used to it by now -- the lens in your face, the shutter click.) I would be terrified when you ran a fever. I would wish you still fit in the sling, so I could keep you close to me; but I would celebrate your independance too. I would worry about your daddy's history, and whether it would come to bite us someday. I would find it difficult to understand how my love for you could surpass my hatred of him, and of what he did... the consequences he left us with, that you and I both paid, though it was never your fault, or mine.

I'm sorry you couldn't stay. Our life would not have been easy, but I would have loved you, you know. I think you do know. I think in your brief life you loved me too.