Rose and I recently took Poppy to the park and sat by a river. Poppy enjoyed some time on her tummy and amused us by carefully licking the grass. 

Every day I fall a little more deeply into the role of being a parent. I feel my fear receding and I let go, going deeper, feeling myself change, my life change around me. I have not lost my art. I am not devoid of separate identity. Poetry has not fled me. I clean my home and tend my family and wash vomit from my hair… And feel whole. Give myself to this, wholeheartedly. Lie on the beach with Poppy asleep on my chest, and feel her breathing, skin to skin. I hold her and at times, I become her and my hand on her chest is that of my own mother, or my grandmother. 

Love rushes up and spills over. Star and I curl up together, talking about life. I kiss her hair, touch her face when she returns from school. She borrows my eye-shadow, stands beside me in the kitchen learning to cook, holds Poppy tenderly. On nights when she stays with friends, my heart waits to hear her return, like a dog sitting by the door. They have changed me, these girls. They light my world.