You’re laying there asleep Clara, in your hospital bed, surrounded by the noise of banging bin lids, nurses talking, pumps whirring.
Your face is turned towards the sunlight streaming in through the large window that looks out across town, across the park, across the trees.
You have a peaceful look on your face – eyes gently closed, lips softly pursed, arms by your side, you’re comfortable.
I wonder if you’re dreaming. Do babies dream? I’m sure they do. But if as adults our dreams are manifestations of our subconscious thoughts, what do you dream about? With your limited experience on this earth, you must dream of something bigger.
I day dream about what you’ll enjoy when you’re older. I wonder what you’ll be.
Will you take up horse riding like your mama did? Or be into cars just like your dad?
You’ll be brave, you’ve shown such strength already.
You’ll be tall, you’ve got the legs for that.
You’ll be thoughtful, you won’t take life for granted.
You’ll be you Clara, and I can’t wait for that.