不敢大声读怕扰邻。。。
I lie back down, faceup, eyes steady on the girl above me, my feet sticking out into the room. try to calm myself with memories of my daughter. i think of her at age four. a fair-skinned child with wild, honey-colored hair that became a helmet of springs during bath time. i can see her perfectly. Pin-cheeked, chubby hands batting at the bubbles I'd make by pouring in a capful of dishwashing soap. then, suddenly, she was nine, then ten then no longer possessed a round belly or light-colored hair. bath tine was spent with me sitting on the floor talking to her through a pulled curtain, as there were now things to hide. Blushes of womanhood to be kept private.
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