Which makes me believe that perhaps I perhaps wasn’t before.
It’s like seeing a favorite flower on the windowsill, one you could have sworn was in full blossom – and then it opens just a little bit more and its beauty multiplies by a zillion.
It’s her sweet eyes, the way she throws her head back as she smiles. It’s how tightly she clutches me when she’s feeling shy, and how quickly she lets go when she’s not. It’s her strong personality, her shameless independence, her remarkable sense of self at such a young age, I’m terrified to think of what she’ll be doing at ten.
Of course it doesn’t hurt that the girl also has perfect comedic timing–a trait which is valued in our household above things like obedience and vegetable eating.
I find myself unable to put her down. I find myself unable to stop pressing my lips to her smooth, fat cheeks. I find my heart skipping just a wee bit faster when she looks my way.
We don’t love our children perfectly equally at the exact same time, all the time. I think we lie to ourselves if we say we do. I think it’s as if they’re running hand in hand across a finish line, only one crosses the finish line just a hair before the other.
This is Sage’s week.
Happy birthday Sagey. And thank you for giving me the best Mother’s Day gift ever: You.