All my love, Max.

Sometimes I fear I am ruining you, that the way I am bringing you up isn't good enough; That I, am not good enough.
I am trying so hard, mi vida; I am raising you up from nothing but ash and gentle kisses,
And sometimes I just have to stop and marvel at the smart little girl you are growing into,
And remind myself that I am doing my best.

You may not have been born from me; your flesh, and blood is not mine; you did not arise from a rib bone, nor were you sculpted from clay and ash.
But you will always be mine; my little girl, and my little love.

They say you must repeat first grade, and my heart is breaking for you all over again; because I would take it all upon myself, if I could.
I would go back to school, and I would do it all for you; just so you would not suffer.

You saved me, my baby girl; and even though you did not come from me, nor were you sculpted from clay and ash; you are mine, and you have always been.
I love you past the sun, and past the skies and the heavens; I love you with every cell in my body.
My little Maxie.