Mother Daughter

I am not her mother.

She is my sons' sister. She is my husband's daughter. I cannot claim her.

I am not her mother.

She is her own person. She is smart. She is talented. She is kind. I passed no genes to her.

I am not her mother, but she is my daughter.

A child of my heart. I love her with the love I have for her brothers. When she leaves, I feel part of our family slipping away, leaving a huge hole where she belongs. When she is here, I curse her teachers for giving her so much homework that she can't spend time with me in the evenings, and I simultaneously burst with pride that she is so conscious of her work on her own.

So I take her M'n'M's to munch on while she studies. I make her a sandwich to take for lunch. I try to remember to get her brothers' things out of her bathroom and make sure they stay out of her room.

It's not much. I'm sure she doesn't know how much I love her. I'm positive she doesn't know how much I'm going to miss her when she goes to college in a little over a year.

I've kept my distance. It is so important that she have a good relationship with her mother. A child needs that. I want her to always have that.

But can it be time for her to know that we are also parent and child? Stepmama and stepdaughter. Family. Friends.

Before she is gone, I want her to know that she can always come back. We will always be here for her, waiting for hugs, playdoh, coloring, TV marathons, family movie nights, and brownie baking.

I want her to know that I love her, and that even though I am not her mother, she is my daughter. My only, quite perfect, daughter.