Mama

I love you.
I want to go back to the days when I would get flour on my face and make a power rangers face. And when I would cry not because I had dreamt of it, but because I had sat in a chair thinking about what I would do if you died. I wanna come summersaulting down the stairs and start crying and having you kiss my forehead and asking if it just hurt or if it just scared me and me replying through tears and infantile coughs, "Scared." I don't want to ever look at any girl in the face and I want you to sway all of my opinions like you used to and I want you to sing about my curly hair the way you used to. I wish there was any way I could pay you back for how well you've brought me up. Here I am crying, just thinking about my childhood and what you've given me. I love you, mom.