by Gina Gareri-Watkins   He knew what he was doing when He gave her to me.  If not for her smile, my feet would be under the earth instead of on it.   Each morning she scales the rails on her crib, swings her slender legs over, dismounts, and pads across the hall to the edge of my mattress.               “Good morning, Mama!” she chirps.              I lay still and take inventory.              Stomach nauseous?  Heart racing?  Skin crawling?              All three, but her powder scent pulls me to shore.    I take three breaths and dive up.   … Continue reading Innocence