How is it possible to take such pride in a strand of hair?
White, moving follicles I observed from your ultrasound.
Hair that I washed while holding your body effortlessly in one arm.
Counting the strands you lost during your first nights sleep.
Covering, protecting.
Longer it grows; you are beginning to take steps on your own.
Growing thicker from the nutrition you continue to receive from my body.
Independently combing your hair by running a tooth brush behind your ear.
Your hair. Different than mine.
I cherish the smell of you through your hair.
Mothering Millie 