Practice

She looks to her left and can only imagine what those women must be thinking. They've got no clue. Grabbing the end of her sleeve into her fist, she uses the back of her hand to wipe the tears away.

Her eyes go back down below, watching her daughter on the ice. A small smile finds its way to the corner of her lips. Not graceful at all, but damn, she's cute.

The big puzzle that has been left unsolved for the past 10 years is finally starting to come together. The pieces still need to be moved around and turned a few times to fit into place. But she's almost there.

"It's not about me, it's about her." That inner voice is speaking, telling her to look in another direction. "He wanted me here. He needed me here for her. He still needs me. She needs me."

Most people question "why me" when something horrible goes wrong. Not her. She questions why she was saved, spared; why she lives to face it again someday. Peace would finally come, if not. The calm she craves more than anything.

Another tear forms, as the blonde figure skates in a circle, trying so hard and smiling at her teacher. That little baby grew into this little person. And she loves and trusts and sees her mommy, and never questions it for a moment. Her daughter has no idea how lucky her mother feels to have her; how happy she makes her and how much more she means to her than to a woman who has carried her child.

But at this moment, this woman realizes that they were gifts to each other. She realizes that He gave her to the child to watch out for her, to be the mommy that she needs, that she deserves. And it was He that saved her, not once but twice, from the disease. The first time to await her birth, the next to continue to protect and guide and love her like no other could. She hopes that one day, should her time no longer be required, her daughter will know what an honor it was to have held that place in her universe.