Never Grow Up

"Ready to go to dream land, princess?" I whisper to my adoring child, smoothing down the long chocolate-coloured curls on her head. When she gives me a sleepy nod and raises her chubby little arms out to me, I reach down and hoist her securely onto my hip. She instantly rests her head on the crook of my neck and unconsciously wraps a lock of my hazelnut hair gently around her fist as she dozes off. I smile and ascend the wooden staircase to her bedroom.

The bedroom door is slightly ajar when we reach it and I softly nudge it with my foot, ignoring the creaking sound it makes. I make my way in the dark to her bed and lay her down slowly, careful as to not wake her. I remove my hand from under her head and gently tuck in the baby blue duvet all around her, making sure that she's snug and comfortable.

"Mommy?" she whispers. I look at her face closely in the dark and nod. "I love you," she says before dozing off again. I kiss her forehead and brush stray hairs away from her heart shaped face. I can't believe that she's going to preschool tomorrow. She's growing up so fast. It seems like just yesterday I was cradling her in my arms.

"I love you too baby, more than you know," I say quietly as I watch her chest rise and fall with every breath she takes. I hope that she's somewhere safe in her dreams—somewhere she can always confide in when she's lost or scared, when I'm not there to help her.

I straighten up and walk to the door. Before I can cross the threshold I look back at my daughter and a memory scratches at the corners of my mind. I give it my attention and it plays like an old film, even though it was only four years ago.

I look down at the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on, sleeping soundly in my arms that she seems to naturally fit in. Her pink lips part and form a small 'o', her plump right arm stretching up and her little fingers opening and closing as if looking for something to hold onto. She lets out a small cry and my ears relish the vital importance of the sound.

I look to my empty side where her father's supposed to be. Even if he did show up, I wouldn't have wanted him here, I think bitterly. As soon as I told him that I was pregnant, he had dropped everything and ran. He was scared to face what lied ahead and always had his eyes on the negative changes.

Never once did he think about how the child would change things for the better, how happy he and I would've been if he had just thought twice about the whole matter. Because of that, he has no right to see his daughter, or to hear her voice that is full of life—life that he had helped to give her, but lost part in the moment he fled for the hills.

I'm angry that one of my very first memories of my daughter is tarnished by her deadbeat father, and I realize that I'm crying when I feel tears slide down my cheeks in hot rivers. I wipe them away with the palm of my hands and push the thought of her so called "father" aside. With a last look at Allison, I close the door and walk to my own room.

*****

I wake up to the musical chirp of bird outside that are perched gaily on the wide window sill and the glorious red-orange sunrise that illuminated the whole sky.

I roll over and come face to face with my daughter's bright brown eyes. Her favourite blue blanket is clutched tightly in her small fist and her light pink pyjamas hang off her small frame. I roll all the way over and pull her onto the big comfy bed beside me.

"School," she says. Allison is grinning ear to ear like it's the best thing ever and honestly, it's one of the most important events that can happen to a child. School to her is a way to meet new people and make new friends, something she's always been good at.

She's really excited and I want her to look back on this day and feel nothing but happiness. It's a pleasure I never got to have. I plastered a smile on my face in an attempt to hide my misery. "Ready, Allie?" I ask. She nods and hops off my bed, skipping towards the opens door and running out. "I'm gonna getcha!" I call out over her laughter. I pull on my slippers and walk slowly, giving her a head start. I then jog around the house, her giggles and my voice bouncing around the rooms.