"Adoption" Sometimes when I close my eyes I can still see your little hand clutching my finger. My thumb traces the hospital bracelet – a keepsake for another woman. Tears fill my eyes as the imagined memories spring to mind. Tentative first steps Night-time lullabies and daytime tantrums. You’re cute even when you’re mad. But these aren’t my memories. They belong to the woman you call mom. The mom of your heart. The mom who did what I couldn’t do. As much as I hurt, I wish you laughter and joy. As adrift as I feel, I wish you a place you can always call home. As much as I despair, I wish you happiness and contentment. But most of all, I wish I could have been what you needed.