Equal parts beautiful and self-conscious, Bronte is a sweet, sensitive, strange soul who I have exponentially come to love and appreciate in the last few months. As someone who looks and acts older than she is, I feel my family sometimes forgets that she is still young and in need of guidance and affection. Intelligent beyond her 13 years, she specializes in stretching the truth to the point of translucence, a trait that can drive one to scream, but the underlying message is her outstanding need for attention.
Because of my constant need of assistance due to the fact that my baby's daddy is no where to be found and Bronte's need for some extra love since her papa left several months ago, we have created a union, able to fill the missing spaces in each other's lives. We laugh, work, and play as I keep her calm and balanced and she reminds me not to take myself so seriously.
For years I resisted her presence, telling everyone who would listen how absolutely intolerable her yelling, lying, and vainness were. I always perceived our relationship as one that was necessary but not pleasant. However, since becoming a mom, I am able to see her through new eyes. I can see how much she looks up to me and remember what it was like to be a her age. Granted I wasn't half as beautiful or buxom as her, but I also didn't encounter many of her predicaments either.
In our close quarters with no escape or distraction for a number of miles, we all wear on each other's nerves, something that Bronte often bears the brunt of. She screams, slams doors, and spends hours of the day doing and re-doing her hair, but she also offers great talents and a helping hand when I need it most. It pains me and gives me great joy to say that for the first time in my life I feel a sisterly bond toward this girl, and I know, as we both grow, it will only continue to blossom.