I saw a picture of my daughter tonight. Happy and smiling in the bathtub. Looking down at the toy she was playing with. Her profile. Her beautiful, wonderful profile.

And I cried.

Her hair. It is beautiful. I lays in ringlets. Beautiful, shiny, dark little ringlets. And it's so long! When? How? I just saw her five months ago. Where does the time go? I feel this pang, deep inside. It's guilt, of course. Guilt that I missed each day's progression of growth of each little, beautiful ringlet. Guilt that I don't wash her hair. Guilt, guilt, guilt!

Dang it.

I just want her to lay her little round head on my lap and play with each and every singular ringlet as she slowly drifts to sleep. If she were here…