By Doug Forbes

Roxie is stuck in time, forever six and a half years old.

Could she have become any more beautiful than she already was? She already stole my breath every morning upon first look. I might not have been able to breathe at all by the time she was 10.

What would be the nature of her first heartbreak, her first love? How would I help her heal?

Where would she live one day? I had hoped it would be as near as I wanted her to be.

Would she turn quiet or remain, well kinda noisy. I bet it would have been a spell of both.

There are so many, too many things I miss at this moment.

Her stinky skull.

Her butt crack always peaking out from above her pants (because she was so stick-thin).

The way she held her right hand in a clench.

The quiet voice she used in the backseat of the car (while on road trips) when she held story time for her stuffed animals.

Her bravery.

Her bravery.

Her bravery.

Her monkey hugs, oh so tight.

Her boundless curiosity.

Her love for love.

The way she was determined to please.

That willfulness that drove me nuts, and made me proud.

How she pursed her lips for Daddy’s yucky face-kisses.

How she always wanted to be with us…how amazing that is to realize.

And now I sit here weeping at my keyboard as I write about the things I miss.

These things I will never have again.

These things that will inevitably fade.

I cannot believe this is my day, writing such words, waiting for this agony to subside somehow.