Those damn pigtails. I could never get them right. When her mother was alive she'd have them up and ribboned in no time.
There seems to be a lot for me to learn without her being here. I must cook more than toast, clean more than wiping my hands on the stained pyjama bottoms I wear and remember more than ever before.
Two girls with their prettiness and light, then me and my heavy heart. I feel like life is swallowing me and I'm barely hanging on. The girls are both too young to understand but one day they might look back and ask how I did it. I'm not sure I'll have the right answer.
I'll end up doing it for my wife's dimples that I can see in the older girl's cheeks and for the bendy elbows and button nose the little one inherited from her mother.
We'll get through it, we have to. But we sure miss mum.
