162 The Meadow First Birthday Sonya Dunning —for my daughter, September 2020 Chest to chest, we’re rocking with the ocean. I’m in no rush to lay you down. Earlier, a dish broke on the kitchen floor, startling you, and I remembered being small—worried about fault. I’m sorry if you are now, too. I’m sorry we couldn’t play outside today. I’m sorry your party was short. So much is burning so close to us even our sunflowers have quit looking for a sky. We have to be careful how we touch what we touch. I shift so you don’t have to feel it, the crack when I sing little star, what you are— yours the only heart but my own to have ever kept beating in my body. When I sigh, you’re quick to wrap your arms around my neck, curling into me as in utero. Shhh, I say above the noise machine lullabying us both. Here’s your new doll. Hold her as closely as you want. Listen to the waves.
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