A decade of Crow

It is Crow's birthday. Today. She's 10. I won't go over the past decade, not for you, and not for me, not for anybody. There's too much pain in the recounting. Besides, I've always had a very strange relationship with time and its passage. But I can and will say that Crow has been the single most constant, most loving bright spot in my life since the moment she arrived.

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl. I still remember the first time I picked you up. I think you were 9 days old. I can still feel the strength of your tiny muscles and smell your warm, milky breath as I held you to my face and you, with eyes still sealed, and ears still folded shut, with your tiny tail held straight out, wagging a mile a minute, kissed my face as enthusiastically as you still do every night in our ritual farewells until morning. I felt an instant connection with you the first time I saw you, and that has never left us.

I still see it in your beautiful, dark eyes. You've stretched me in so many ways. So happy birthday, Baby Girl. You're challenging, and demanding, and a huge pain in the butt. You hold a mirror up to me into which I don't always wish to gaze. But you're a gift in my heart, and the best gift I've ever received.