Bullet Hole in the Window

It is 3:00pm and yes I'm still in my PJ's. I'm sitting in my Grandma's old blue recliner. The evidence that her Italian frame used to sit in it, can still be found upon the head rest of the chair in the form of a blackish/purplish hair dye stain, that no matter how hard I scrub won't come off the chair.
My sweet baby girl is wrapped in my arms and is taking a small hiatus from crying.
We are staring past the glittered, popcorned asbestos ceiling, staring past the bullet hole in the front room window where our neighbors teenaged son shot at my cat with his bb gun. We are looking at the pastel blue sky that is littered with fluffy, white summer clouds. Nobody can tell me my life is not perfect, not even the bullet hole in the window.