Between Bruises and Blooms

They call you Gabby Goose
because somewhere along the way

your name grew wings.

You waddle through the house
with determination bigger than your little legs,
collecting treasures,
collecting laughs,
collecting pieces of my heart
without even trying.

Tonight, though,

there is no waddling.

No babbling.

No tiny hands insisting there is one more adventure before bed.

Just you,

curled against me,

finally asleep,

while the medicine chases away the ache in your gums.

Your breathing slows.

Your fingers loosen.

Your forehead softens.

And I realize

that even exhaustion can be beautiful

when it comes wrapped in a little girl

everyone else knows as Gabriella—

but I’ll always know

as my Gabby Goose. 🪿💜