If she could see me now

As I sit in my tidy, pretty yard, on a pristine early-summer day -- blossoms springing everywhere... lovely, tall, attentive husband washing the car -- pausing to admire and sometimes converse with my ripe and swelling belly while I look on from my perch... quietly basking in the life we have, anticipating the changes about to come...

...I think to myself, if only I could project a glimpse back to my often-lonely, frequently-hopeless 13-year-old self. The self who could barely see to the end of the next week... The self who wondered if she could ever be loved with all her flaws.

I never did dare to dream this wealth of being.