This morning when I was driving, I noticed an African-American (or "chocolate" according to Peacock) woman walking down the street with a young girl that I assumed was her granddaughter. On my way home, I saw this same pair still out on their morning stroll. It made me think about my Peacock and how she will probably never go for a morning walk with either of her "brown" grandmothers. There is a part of me that feels guilty for the things my daughter can not have because she calls me mom.
The house is quiet right now, so I'm going through old photos and editing. I played with this photo my husband took about six weeks ago and ended up with this sassy picture of my Peacock. I love this photo of her because her little personality that I know so well shines through and, in my opinion, she looks like the spitting image of her birthmother in this photo.
Again ... my mind wanders back to the people & things she lost early in her life, but I am so thankful for the sacrifices that were made by many so that I could call her mine!
As I was typing up this post, she came in to visit with me. I was listening to Pandora and the following (see below) song came on. "This is a gooooood song, " she quickly announced and no goooooood song is complete without some shaking of a cute, round bottom and the clickity-clack of the beads in her braids.