Laurels Literary Magazine Fall 2015 | Page 19

Mother and Daughter Briseida Esparza My daughter makes me want to put on lipstick, dance on ballerina toes, and curl my hair. The pink one Mommy. That’s my favorite. So, I paint my bitten nails and put on a smile. She wakes me up with a hug and a series of pulls towards the kitchen. Pancakes and syrup with strawberry kisses on the side. As usual: and tangled hair. She twirls her small frame between time and in phases— a blur of isolated innocence and beautiful corruption Her portrait, still, only for a moment— for I grow old and she grows up. Which one should I wear, Mom? The pink one, Eva. That’s my favorite. 7