Thirteen

"Take my picture."

"Okay, but you have to set up the shot," because I want her to recognize the difference between too much headroom and just enough and the importance of faces rather than bodies but she needs to find her own way, figure out just how much slant to put on the horizon if you can't get it just so and the proportions of figure to background, all that visual literacy that is only partially taught and like all art, rather felt. But I think she has a good eye and an open heart and a willing ear to listen. Sometimes. And even if it is strange to me, all these selfies and silly Vines that make her and her neighbor friend scream with laughter then howl with embarrassment days later and frantically delete, delete the girl she was a few moments ago, I know it is the making of girl-woman-child hybrid that changes daily, the toughest job she's had yet, to figure out who she is at the same time that the "is" can't stop transforming. I'm just along for the ride, to take the picture and keep giving her slightly more challenging tasks and say "Yes," as often as I can and invite her to ride bikes with me and understand or at least try that she needs to pull away even while she still clings to me at bedtime and kisses me goodnight.