It wasn't necessarily any special. Maybe it was just the way the light seemed to fill everything so I could see things very clearly. Maybe it was my vantage point. The girls and I normally sit right beside each other to eat, but on this particular morning, I decided to sit across from her...and she was so small.
She has seemed so small to me lately. Last night when she crawled into my bed and I wrapped my arms around her...she was so small. When her feet rested against my legs to listen to music and read a story together...she was so small. When she came to me and whispered, "I have a secret...I love you," she seemed so small.
I forget because I'm constantly in a state of amazement at how smart, talented and kind she is. It's because of this that the tiny whispers of "I'm scared, mommy" throw me off and make me remember, she's still just a baby. My little baby who wraps her arms around me so tight during the day, and at night, just lies in my arms in complete trust. She's just a baby.
Until next time...
The Long Road to China