The Apple of My Eyesight Grows Up...

...and she is sweeter than honey comb, of me but not mine...or maybe i am of her, circular, as Pop discussed...she is sensitive and communicative, loves her parents and her darling brother, wonders about America and will miss me...so she expressed for the first time in our delicate relationship...I don't remember when the idea of "missing" something registered cerebrally with me, but I feel as though I was born with this sense...to long, of longing, of missing and loving from abroad, of attaching wholeheartedly knowing my flight is for next week, of knowing I won't see him or her or Abuela or Pop or Marina or Mom for long stretches of time...and so it is.