About A Baby Girl


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.


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.



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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