I dreamed of my daughter on my mother's birthday.
Four years old. Red plaid dress. Patent Mary-Janes with socks trimmed with lace on the cuffs. Caramel-colored pigtails. Asleep on my shoulder as I carried her from place to place.
Susie.
People I met thought that I was my mother. They thought that Susie was me.
And she was beautiful. Oh was she beautiful.
