The clock read 6:11 pm.

We were propped up on the pillows of our king sized bed.
Just Maggie and I.
We were eating bacon cheeseburgers her daddy grilled. And she was reading Charlotte’s Web aloud. I love being read to and never thought I’d be so fascinated listening to my six year old daughter’s hilarious fluency in relaying the antics of Fern and her beloved runt of a pig! I hear my mother in her voice. It’s soft. And loving. Echoes of innocence from my own childhood.
A few pages into the next chapter, she paused between paragraphs and looked up.

“Mommy? You remember the time it was just me and you and we talked all about our bodies? That was fun!”
“Yes, baby. Do you have more questions?”
“Ok. When we wash your hair in a little bit we can do that again. And as you grow, I hope you will always feel good about asking mommy anything. I promise to always listen to you.”
“Oh boy! I can’t wait! And we can sing our special songs together too!” She snuggled in closer to me, looked back at her page and returned to the world of Wilbur and Charlotte.

Before bed, we had our promised bath time.
Just Maggie and I.
As I suds up her hair we sung “The Maggie Song” as we call it.
And her brothers songs too.
She even made one up for her daddy.
About how good he is.
And how he cooks us food.
She asked how did people come into existence.
And were dinosaurs real.
She asked of God and evolution.
And what do I believe.
About things long long ago.
She asked why do we feel pain.
And why do we have blood.

And after her questions were exhausted, I soaped up her back and wrote a note on her skin, a game my own mother use to play with me.

I told her to guess each letter as it was traced.

I. L. O. V. E. M. A. G. G. I. E.

And she did.

Published by Lisa Cole

Lisa Cole is a freelance writer and social media specialist skilled in non-profit marketing and grass roots advertising. This mother of four weaves humor, emotion and depth into stories about parenthood and life in the American South.

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