Every time I think of her I see this:
That wide-eyed, take your breath away, 'I trust you completely' look. I love this picture. I remember the day she was born and it still makes me stop. I made the nurses let her sleep in my room that night. She kicked her feet out of her swaddle and had them hanging over the bassinet. She still can't sleep with her feet under covers. I remember leaving the next day in absolute horror that these people were letting me take her home. Me! What the hell did I know about babies? But they did. And we were ok.
I made this outfit for her. It was the first thing I ever made. I still have it tucked away in a box of special things that belong solely to her.
Oh Gosh! The way she used to laugh! Deep from the belly and unrestrained. All I had to do was wiggle my fingers as though I were about to tickle her.
Her first birthday.... Shortly after this picture she threw the cake on the floor and started freaking out because her hands were dirty!
My little buckethead. All those amazing toys we ran to buy her and her favorite toy? A bucket.
She is a sweet girl. Empathetic and smart. She loves her brother so much I can't even find the words for it and he? Adores her. She is his favorite 'toy'.
She can be so silly and then so serious.
And somehow, 8 years have gone by. I don't remember what life was really like before she was in it. 8 years and she's not a baby or even a little girl anymore.
I turn around now and see her and think 'wow'. All over again. Wow.
She has so much ahead of her. I want to guard her form her first heartbreak, I know I can't but I certainly want too. I think about her getting her license and wonder how I'm going to ever sleep again. I wonder what she'll do with her life. I wonder who she'll be.
In my head, she's that same little girl who insisted that she could touch the sky if I held her up far enough.
Reality? She's 8.
