Her heart spills sunshine from every nook and cranny.
She is the epitome of love—the fabled girl with a golden heart, filled with beauty and, more importantly, a well of true kindness.
She sings from her soul, as she creates different shapes and story gestures with her tiny hands—making diamonds with her index fingers and thumbs; opening and closing her tiny fists for stars.
She breathes beauty—seeing the best in people and the world—and she exhales joy and verve.
Her smile makes my heart stop and her gracious, grinning eyes make my own water. She stares deeply into anther person’s face, sometimes grasping it between two small palms, and she observes the souls of others as some people do wrinkles and make-up.
I’ve witnessed the judgment already present in other kids of her age and, in her, I see none. She’s thoughtful and serious—at times, I can see her depth of thought written on her lowered eyebrows and her gently puckered mouth—but it’s not with the same needless—and thoughtless—discrimination that is so easily witnessed in humanity of all ages.
She reaches for my hand and pulls me towards her. I kneel down to hug her and she softly kisses my lips. And then she looks at me and smiles and she’s off playing again—she has no idea of the love that she has swelled within my fragile mother’s breast.
Tears trickle down my cheeks.
I think of how much I would pray, if I believed in genuflecting for what we want instead of for simple gratitude, for her to grow healthfully and happily while remaining so humanly honest and sweet-natured.
Life brings all people sorrows and challenges, but, as my husband reminded me last night, the biggest liability is a bad attitude, and that, I can’t see her possessing.
How gorgeous the world would be if I saw it through her tender but curious eyes.
And it’s not childhood—I remember being a child, and I was not this way.
And it’s not lack of trials—she’s already had her fair share.
And it’s not my good parenting—this is inherent within her being.
But I will go on loving this soft soul that’s been so generously lent to me while I’m here. I will continue helping her thrive in all the ways that a mother is able.
More, I will benefit from the affectionate generosity that’s been gifted to me in my own life, in the form of a cherubic little girl, for the rest of my days because one secret of parenthood, perhaps not so well kept:
They will always be our babies.
Photos: Author’s own.