I Don't Remember You, Do You Remember Me?

Hi remember me?
                    I am the youngest of your four children. I was the infant, who didn't have a care in the world. I was the little baby with the dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, just like Daddy. The first day of life given to me, was at Franklin Square Hospital. A hospital, Daddy said "was the better choice between the hospitals", Maritza and I were born in. When I was born I looked angry at the world because of the crinkle in my brow. Daddy calls it "My pretty girl, with the mean look. Born on Friday the thirteenth"-Whatever that means.  He told me when the doctor(a little old lady) cut the umbilical cord, it caused blood to squirt across the room, splatter on the floor, and desecrate a privacy curtain. She asked the nurses around her to "get something to mop this up". I've seen pictures of the curtain.; Daddy making funny faces in them, Do you remember? Daddy laughs when he talks about it. I asked him why? He says "It's a funny coincidence. Blood everywhere, superstitious date, horror movie, and the fact that I have pictures to prove it" A hearty laugh, along with "We will both have a good chuckle, when you're older" followed.

 I am older since we last saw each other. I was using a sippy cup and diapers. I was too small to think about using the potty, let alone by myself. I couldn't dress myself, feed myself, or talk. I was an infant, a baby. I am a big girl now, despite not remembering if I was walking when we last saw each other, or how many words I could say.  What I can tell you is what any three year old could tell you. I am potty trained, know most of my colors, the whole alphabet, and day by day, Daddy works with me to help improve my pronunciation and enunciation skills. I have a wonderful life.  Daddy is my guide and Maritza is my partner.  Even though she speaks for me, bosses me around, and takes up the spotlight, I am so happy to have her in my life. I could ask her anything, and if she doesn't know, I could ask Daddy, he seems to know everything about me and Maritza.  He keeps perfect records and accounts of our lives. He is a man of many words and even more lessons, but I guess you knew that. Daddy told me my first word was "Daddy". I smile when I think of it.

 Daddy doesn't speak much of you, only when Maritza asks. I did overhear, Daddy tell Maritza you were at work and you loved us with all your heart. I know must; every mommy loves their children. Maritza also says, we have two other sisters; Jazmine and India,and your name is Chrissie. The only reason I know this is, whenever someone mentions their mommy, Maritza yells out "my mommy's name is Chrissie!" I don't say a word based on lack of physical evidence. My eyes do have a tendency of seeking out Daddy when such a comment presents itself. My Daddy is my Mommy & my Daddy. I know he will always be there for me. He is confident with his words of discipline and logic. He has a respect for us that demands an echo, which request only the best from us. Daddy has been with me every step of the way in my adventures of becoming a big girl. He held my hand when all I wanted was a sippy cup, and all I kept getting were open top cups(Daddy calls them big girl cups). Daddy walked with me down the unfamiliar path to the potty. Where(I found out through my own observation)every big girl goes when they need to relieve themselves.

In hopes to break us of our pull-ups, Daddy has carried me and Maritza to the potty(separately) every night for the past two weeks. A few accidents, nothing major. Daddy says "accidents happen; it's nothing to be ashamed of". The joy that overcomes us when we wake up dry, is only matched by the feeling of wearing big girl panties all through the night. Don't get me wrong I loved the princess pull-up prints, but it's time to grow up and put(like Daddy says) "my big girl draws on". I don't mind, because my panties have Dora, princess, penguins and flower prints on them. So, I'm adjusting nicely. Thank you Daddy. He says his knowledge is the water poured on his blossoming roses(that's us) for them to grow. I can go on and on about my Daddy; he's all I've known these past years. He has been around for every birthday, every achievement, every bruise and scrape, every tear filled eye, every scary nightmare, and every sweet dream. He has been there to catch me as I fall, guide me as I wander, motivate me when I fall behind, reprimand me when I get out of line, and love me when love is all I need.

 The reason for this letter is because Maritza wrote one and I don't want to be left out. I see every child around my age with their mommy. I recognize the way they look at her. I see the same glare, watching Maritza stare at Daddy that way. What is that feeling? Why doesn't it bother me? Why don't I care?...Daddy says "you're to young to understand and to young to concern yourself with such trivial question." I looked at him with a sense of security, dependency and trust, every child feels towards their caretaker. I know Daddy is my life and my foundation. We have met and known many people who have come into our lives. Some nice and some not-so-nice. It's hard to recall their names at times; but I will never forget who truly loves me. My life is filled with wonder and amazement. So, you can't blame me for forgetting the absent and unimportant.  I only remember what's important in my life, and with I say "I don't remember you, do you remember me?"