I see her after weeks, sometimes months, sometimes just a day
And yet she still takes a running jump into my arms
Hugging me.
I ask her, "Did you miss me?"
Because I still need to know, to hear.
She says as always, assuredly, "YESSSSSSSS!!!!!"

She asks me to play matching games
And we take turns flipping cards, finding matches of monkeys and frogs.
She asks me to teach her yoga,
So I get her a mat and we work on our downdogs.

She tells me when things are not funny.
And I tell her that I will protect her from Bella, my brother's German Shepard pup
who though loving in kissing and licks
can sometimes nip and scratch, but in love nonetheless.

I sit on the stairs with a look in my eyes,
A look that has become familiar to her.
And she sits beside me, eyes peering forward, not at me.
But sitting close enough for her to say without words,
"I don't know what is wrong. But it is ok. I am here. I love you."
She is just shy of 5 years, but has a knowing soul, a powerful intuition.

I give her a first round of hugs and goodbyes.
She comes back my way for me to zip up her puffy coat.
I don't want her to be cold.
She makes her way back again, into my arms, another goodbye.
She knows I hate goodbyes, but that I need them so.
Again she makes her way back to me.
Once more I hold her tight.
I tell her I love her.
I tell her that I will miss her.
She tells me she loves me too.
I say to her, "Goodbye, my Love."
She repeats, "Goodbye, my Love."

And that is how we part.