The other night your dad and I were busy talking over dinner and before we knew it you had taken three little black beans and laid them tenderly on a tortilla chip and given them a pillow of shredded cheese and tucked them in with a small scrap of lettuce. Deese my babies, you said, and then you sang them The Itsy Bitsy Spider because dey like dis song.
On the eve of your second birthday I'm thinking about a line from this book...
"It's time for something beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful."
You came to us so squeaky clean, like a little chunk of God's love was chipped off and plopped right into my arms that day. I held your tiny body and watched you sleep and felt a little more pure, to be holding something so pure. And I thought, God, please keep her this way forever. Because I thought you couldn't possibly get any more perfect, and yet here you are.
Your beautiful bald little head grew white messy curls. Your gurglings and grunts became poignant questions and funny observations. Your imagination has come alive through books. Your eyes get wide and you sit perfectly still, inhaling every image, hanging on every word. It has become my little slice of heaven, our reading time. You sit heavy on my lap and I smell your hair and watch your wild eyes dart around the pages while I do all of the voices.
You are smart as a whip and when you watch me talk with that furrow in your brow and your eyes locked on my mouth, I can almost see knowledge pouring in through your ears and swallowed whole by your steel trap of a brain. You've memorized the words to all of your favorite songs, which you sing throughout the day, and with special gusto in the car. You ooze happiness. People of all ages, shapes and colors are drawn to you like an irresistible magnet. They seek you out to hear you talk and to kiss on your cheeks and to catch a glimpse of those scrumptious thighs.
You prefer a cup full of rocks over any toy. You carry those rocks around the house, up the stairs then down the stairs then up again and even into the bathtub. Last night you were teaching your doll how to stir them up to make cupcakes. Stir, stir, stir Patty! Hold the spoon like this Patty! Good job! Big girl Patty! I swooned over the whole scene from a distance and my heart swelled up and thought, God, please keep her this way forever. And I'm sure He smiled and patted my head and answered, oh, this is only the beginning.
May you always ooze happiness. May you always feel confident enough to live uninhibited, and to sing at the top of your lungs whenever the moment strikes you. May you always retain that innate desire to nurture...black beans, rocks....and one day, a very long time from now, a baby of your very own. So you can experience this insane amount of love that is attached to your offspring, who will never understand just how much you love them until they have a little one of their own. And so the cycle goes.
What a wonderful blessing that you came into my life, bringing that love, oozing that happiness, a constant reminder of how much we are loved by the parent of us all.
Always, mom.
(Part one, here.)
1 comment:
such a sweet post brooke. i love the picture of stella falling into the water. you can tell how much you love her through your writing.
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