Faces in a Portrait

Faces in the portrait. I want to go back to that little girl in the picture. The bouncing bundle of joy with the little red ball. The yellow back splash surrounding the caramel jaws on that blossoming queen. Funny how the frame can capture the moment. Faces that hold still the memories, feelings, smiles, laughs, joys, hurt hidden behind the laugh lines. I want to to stroke her face and tell her it will be alright. I want to sit next to her and assure her this too shall pass. She is still in the photo. She sees not that which will be unleashed. I want to go back to her because she is me. Who is she looking at? Who has her attention? The smiles that she gives so generously, she shares with all who would acknowledge its presence. I want to be that face in the portrait. I want to be that carefree, innocent, happy queen. She has not a care in the world but, to hold her little red ball. I have been told my slate has been wiped clean. It has been affirmed that I am redeemed and a new creature is the mutation now seen. There is no portrait, no frame, no edges to hold me back. I am no longer the little girl in the portrait but, she is very much inside of me. I am now her frame and portrait. ©InmypromiseWhite