A Normal Day
“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”
― Mary Jean Irion
On her own, she took off from me, to join the big kids and run wild. I'll admit, I lost her at first, then found her and never took my eyes off of her. When the boys made a "base" at the back of the barn, she insisted on storming their camp. I watched them gather around and laugh and call out, "A baby is getting in!" But no one would stop her, which was so incredible to see; these boys with such sweet hearts. Besides, I don't think they could've stopped her even if they wanted to.
Photo by Olivia Gatti
tomorrow is your birthday. i haven’t had the opportunity to give that as much thought as i would like. i know i haven’t been there for you like you have wanted or needed during these past several months. this breaks my heart. i want you to know that even though i have been distracted, i have never stopped noticing how wondrous you are. the leap between six and seven is a huge one. not only have you gotten taller, smarter, sassier, but you have become kinder. a couple days ago, i let you open one early present. just one. your brother and sister sat quietly watching as you tore through the paper. then all of a sudden you stopped, looked at them, and asked if they would each take a turn ripping some of the paper off. as they tore, you cheered them on. i know i tell you this often, but i want to say it again. you made me a mama and i feel so thankful for this. and each day i get to spend loving you is the sweetest gift.
Photo by Heather Robinson Photography