Mommy

          I was just a little over two years old.  And Mommy was the light of my life.  I knew what she looked like; I knew how she sounded; I knew how she smelled.

          What I didn’t know was that she could change—and she did!  She got a haircut—something I didn’t know she could do.

          Well, afterward, she walked into the room I was standing in.

                     And I looked at her.

                     And I looked at her.

                     And I looked at her.

                     I know she’s Mommy but she’s different.

                     I know she’s Mommy but she’s different.

                     I know she’s Mommy but she’s different.

          She bent down and I touched the top of her head.

                     She’s Mommy.

                     She’s Mommy.

                     She’s Mommy.