Deuces

We're just about ready.   We are almost prepared to close this year,   and start another.   The three of us.   The amigos,   The trifecta,   Tres Flores,   The trio,   The first of the prime ones...   My Baby, my Husband and I.   The ones I can count on,   When others fail me,   When the rest don't understand   Or remain unaffected,   They are affected.   They support me.   They lift me up when I am down.   She who sees the world with innocent eyes,   and He who sees the world as it should be.   Not through numeric values and statistics   or rhetoric   but with hopeful fortitude, compassion and holding tight to all that is Good.   My Baby, my Husband and I      

Daughter, When I look at your hair I marvel at the big, bountiful curls that adorn your head. You'll never know how much I love your hair.  As a kid I always, always, always desperately wanted big 80's hair and every attempt to tease my straight mane left me sad and tangled. Somehow, I survived the hair famine of 88' and live to tell about it.  Perhaps because of the more recent trends of straight, flat-ironed hair I can hold my flat hair-head high, wave my hot ironed locks to and fro and look proud. But still, Despite big hair being a bit "out" I still wish I had it.  It must have been in 2nd grade when the force became strong within. The other day as we sat at story time I watched you with your big, beautiful hair looking intently at the teacher reading the short story.  I wondered then if you would always love story time and if you would always have wild, enviable hair. In 2nd grade I had Mrs. Martin.  (It could have been "Miss" or &