She was a girl with Bambi eyes. She has known hurt and loss. Some might say she was weak and frail. Some might say she was broken and wounded. But I knew better. I could see it in her eyes the very first time I laid my own darkened brown eyes upon them. She wasn’t weak, she was craving a taste of real life. And she knew with that comes loss. She had survived much anguish in her life. Those poor little Bambi eyes had seen things no deer, no one stumbling for ground to walk upon should see. But that’s what made her so strong. So determined for independence. She doesn’t look for heaven. She has a willingness to survive. And she would, regardless of the logs that fell from the trees, the logs that blocked her path. She would simply leap over them.
Those beautiful Bambi eyes, they glisten with a hint of will and hope that few can see. They twinkle with strength that people underestimate. Those Bambi eyes, they don’t need anyone. She may party up all night, she may lose herself in the music. But she would make it out alive. My beautiful baby, those Bambi eyes are not alone. She may walk alone, but I walk along right beside her, when she stumbles, I will be there. When she needs to rest, I will protect her and when she needs to be held, I will hold her as I stare into those Bambi eyes, offer her a kiss and show her that she is all but alone. She is strong, but we, together are something entirely indescribable.
