Bonnie and Clyde

My girls are cousins by blood.

My daughter, Opal, is the shorter and younger of the two.  Opal lives in the present moment.  She's funny, not because she tries, but because she just acts like herself and doesn't realize it.  She's serious but not solemn.  Opal is all cheeks, with ringlet curls coming from every end, always as though she has just woken up.  Most of the time she is either missing a shoe, or pants, or a shirt.  Opal's eyes are soft almond and her skin is browner than my own.  She is honest and stubborn and her laugh is deep and throaty, like a jazz musician from the forties

My niece is four and tall and skinny.  She looks like my sister did as a kid.  It's wonderful.  Watching my children adventure, I am able to remember my niece's mom as she was, filled with mischief and love.  My sister doesn't know it but together we are mothering her daughter.  Her memory - her gift of love and the shadow of hurt she left behind and my today; I have the gift of today, of being real and of being something different.

Cacia is sensitive and intense.  She is not innocent like children usually are.  Her big green eyes stare from below her flax hair and she sees everything but remains detached.  When you catch her eye with a look of complete love, she'll melt into herself.  Sometimes she'll let out a sound that's similar to a purr.  She's sinewy, her body tense and strong, and she hugs with a deep, raw, thirst.  When she hugs me her heart is wide open.  "I love you with all my hearts", she says."

Cacia wakes up first every morning.  She will lay in bed looking around, quiet while retracing her dreams.  From there on out she will be singing, or telling a story, or mumbling to herself.  Cacia is an actor, a performer and her goal is to have her audience fully involved.  She digs connection and yearns for it.  She needs to tell you about something so that it becomes real.