About A Baby Girl

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This is my cousin Hussa, she’s half filipino, half arab. She kind of looks like me when I was a baby but boy are we different as my aunt says.

As I played with her tonight and held her in my arms, I thought about how babies see the world and how big it seems. I mean, when I was little I knew that there was a big world and I was a small little girl but eventually, I’d grow up and the world won’t seem that big anymore. But now that I’m twenty-one, the world seems bigger than it was when I was six or maybe five and I just feel smaller and smaller each day without the respect and enthusiam I thought I’d have for life.

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When babies can’t sleep, they don’t think about the things that went or will go wrong, the things that have been said or done and all those things that I think of when I can’t fall asleep. All they do is cry and want milk or just want someone to carry them and sing them a lullaby. That is exactly what I did to Hussa awhile ago and after a few minutes, she’s knocked out granted the songs that I used to lull her to sleep were lullabied versions of Fall Out Boys’ songs.

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She’s holding on to me right now like a koala to its bamboo tree and it’s the safest I’ve felt in months, years even.

There’s something about a baby’s touch, smile, or laugh that can bring my sour mode to a happy one.

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